The Magicweaver
by bleubirdsong
Summary: The only survivor of a gruesome attack, Harry winds up in an orphanage where he meets a fellow wizard named Tom. They become best friends, investigating their magic together in a hostile world. Magic is the light of Harry's life, literally. They grow up together, facing adversities and hiding from the one who set everything into motion in the first place. Grindelwald's era.
1. Temporary Darkness

_Hello! This story is starting out as a Christmas giftfic for a very good friend of mine. I do intend to continue it. I apologize for the jagged beginning and the absolutely cliché end to this first chapter; the second chapter will be posted in a few hours, and hopefully will be followed by chapter 3 shortly._

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

**October 31, 1932**

The first thing that Harry remembered when he woke up was pain. A horrible, searing pain that burned his nerves into flayed strands. The next thing that Harry remembered was the darkness that followed the blinding green light. He screamed, he tried to blink, but everything was dark and no matter how hard he tried to see there was simply nothing there. He must have passed out from the pain, he knew, but he wasn't sure. The darkness never left. The last thing he was sure that he remembered was a soft, cruel laugh.

**November 1, 1932**

The darkness persisted. Sometimes he thought that he heard voices, but he wasn't sure. His eyes itched, but he found himself unable to move. When he struggled, he was instantly restrained, and sometimes he felt something tingly rush over him and then he would know no more. He stopped trying to move, but the tears didn't stop. He didn't like the tears. They made his eyes sting and the voices he thought he heard would get panicked. However, eventually his eyes would cool. Sometimes they started hurting again. When that happened, he would whimper, and someone would pour something cold into his mouth. The pain stopped then. He must have been in a hospital.

**November 3, 1932**

Harry was ridiculously bored. Nobody even tried to talk to him. He finally was able to distinguish the words he occasionally heard, but when he tried to say something, he was shushed, and the voices would leave. Once, he tentatively asked one of the nicer, female voices why it was so dark.

The voice told him that there had been an accident. Somehow, he didn't believe the voice.

**November 7, 1932**

"Does he know what happened?"

"I don't think so. Mandy told him there was an accident, but nobody has said anything else yet."

"Good. We need to find out what happened to him and his parents, if he can remember it."

"Maybe I can ask Professor Dumbledore to stop by. His eyes are perfectly healed now, even though he can't see. Perhaps he'd be able to look into them and do his mind-reading thing."

"If only that was so easy. I'll get started."

The last voice drew nearer. It sounded stern and rather harsh, which scared Harry a little bit. He much liked the other voice better; it sounded rather sympathetic. Harry struggled to sit up, swaying a little bit from vertigo.

"Why hello there, young man," the stern voice said. "I'd like you to answer some of my questions."

Harry nodded, wringing his hands. "Okay," he said weakly.

"Do you remember what happened a week ago?" the stern voice said. "I'm doing an investigation right now to see if I can figure out what happened to your parents and anything you might be able to tell me would be helpful."

Harry froze. Maybe this voice would know. "Where are my parents?" Harry asked, cringing slightly. Please let it be a good answer, he chanted inside his head. Please tell me that they are okay. The nice voice from before hitched a breath. Oh no, that wasn't good, Harry thought. Please.

"I'm sorry to inform you about this, but your parents were in some sort of magical accident. We are trying to ascertain - that means find out - what happened. Was anyone else there?"

Harry sat numbly, mind processing. It wasn't an accident. That much he was certain of. "There was someone else there. He didn't like my parents. He laughed very scary," Harry whispered.

The stern voice sounded a little bit eager. "Do you remember what he looked like?"

"No," Harry said, a little upset. "I don't remember seeing anything after that green spell."

There was a little silence.

"Green spell?"

"The man wasn't very nice. He laughed at my mum and my dad. And," Harry said, breathing in slowly, "then he pointed his wand at me and said something funny. And then there was a green spell and then my face hurt."

Harry looked up in the direction he thought the man was. "Why can't I see?"

The stern voice was a silent.

Harry didn't answer any more questions.

**November 10, 1932**

When Harry woke up that morning, he could feel that something was different. It seemed like his whole body was just itching somehow, for some reason. He scratched at his arms a little bit, but it didn't do anything. In fact, he thought it was maybe his _magic_ itching. That was strange. He didn't believe that magic could itch, out of all things. But it was the only thing that was present in his whole body that he could imagine itching. If magic could cause itching, then surely it itself was capable of itching?

His favorite nurse, Mandy, walked in just then. Her footsteps were always very soft, and she always wore something that clanked and jingled a bit as she walked. Harry thought it must be jewellery of some kind. He remembered his mom having some.

"Hello, Harry!" she called cheerfully. Harry looked in her direction, and then froze. He couldn't believe his eyes. His eyes, the traitorous eyes that always showed him endless darkness even though he heard people say that they were healed perfectly...were showing him something. But it wasn't anything that he had ever seen before. Right where Mandy should be, Harry saw something golden and swirly. It reminded him of happy days on his training broom with his father. It looked as if Mandy was made up of this golden and swirly light. It was very faint, but Harry could see her! Harry was very excited for a moment. Maybe his vision was coming back! But it wasn't showing him anything he was used to seeing.

Harry decided to wait a little bit and investigate before telling anyone.

"Hello, Mandy," Harry said, waving at the golden figure.

"Are you hungry?" asked Mandy. "I brought you breakfast. And one cheese bun that I managed to steal from the kitchens!"

Harry was hungry indeed. "Yeah, I'm hungry," he said. The golden figure lifted a hand and Harry saw the most peculiar thing happen. The glowing stick that he saw in the golden figure's hand must be Mandy's wand. And the funniest thing happened! The golden swirls began to stream to the hand holding the wand, and the golden swirls began to spread to something right above Mandy's other hand. The golden figure dimmed! As the golden swirls settled, Harry was shocked to realize that it looked like a platter of food, with a distinct shape that looked like a teapot and a shape that could only be a bowl. And the golden swirls, on the platter and below it and above it and absolutely everywhere, carried the platter right into his lap. Then, the golden swirls streamed back to the golden figure and merged with it, making it brighter once again.

Harry understood what he was seeing. He must be seeing magic.

He'd never heard of seeing magic before, though. His parents taught him a little bit about the wizarding world, but even though there were many things that he was told he would learn later, he was sure he would have heard of someone being able to see magic. For some reason, Harry suddenly got the strong feeling that he should keep this strange development a secret.

"Thank you," he said, feeling for the platter. He couldn't see it anymore since the golden swirls left, but he could remember the approximate locations of all of the items he could distinguish.

"Do you need any help? I know you want to be all grown up and eat by yourself, but if you need help eating, it's perfectly fine to ask, especially as you can't see," Mandy said, voice tinged with sadness.

"No thank you," Harry said, slightly irritated. He was in a magical hospital. He'd heard of people's limbs being _reattached._ For some reason, though, they couldn't fix his eyes. He knew he was being silly and was acting his age, but he allowed it to himself. He was only five, surely he wouldn't get in trouble for being a little grumpy. His parents...his parents always understood.

Harry swallowed heavily, shakily pouring some tea into the teacup he had just located. He paused several times, feeling with his finger how much tea was in the teacup. The first time he tried to pour his tea, he forgot to check, and ended up pouring tea all over himself. It was rather painful.

"Alright," Mandy said sadly, and he heard her footsteps drawing away.

**November 11, 1932**

When Harry woke up the next day, he bit back a scream. When he opened his eyes, it was like being assaulted by a vortex of colors and light so bright that it reminded him of the green light that he remembered. He closed his eyes, whimpering. His eyelids didn't dim everything very much, but it wasn't painful. He whipped his head from side to side, hands grasping his covers in a deathly grip. He saw funny shapes all over the wall, looking a lot like the runes his mum used to play around with. He saw a veritable rainbow of colors, of _magic_, all over everything. His new vision must have obviously developed overnight.

Harry still didn't want to tell anyone. But if he was going to keep it a secret, he couldn't stay here. If it got stronger again, like it did after only one night, then he absolutely could not stay here. It wasn't as if anything was happening, anyway. Occasionally healers would walk in and cast spells on him, and he would hear them discussing his eyes, the curse, the accident that..._killed_ his parents that obviously _wasn't an accident_, and his future. But there wasn't any more healing to be done, he was sure. He'd heard some healers mention it repeatedly.

But there was the question of his future. Some people mentioned finding some random magical family to adopt him. But Harry didn't want to be adopted. He thought he would do fine without parents, thank you very much. His parents were very nice, but they weren't around anymore. He didn't want replacements. In fact...he didn't have a family anymore. He was just Harry, alone in the world. Even though that thought made Harry feel somewhat sad, he thought he preferred that thought to being placed with some random family and forced to have different parents.

So, Harry decided that he was going to run away.

It was going to have to be a very delicate procedure, and it had to happen today. Tomorrow, his vision might get worse. Tomorrow, other people might find out about his talent. The talent that he was so strongly sure must be kept secret from everyone. So Harry began to plan. They'd taken off his restraints days ago, and he was sure his room wasn't watched as much as it used to be before. He was sure he would be able to make it out of the hospital. He'd just have to avoid all the people, and hopefully being able to see the magic over everything would help him figure out where to go.

Harry waited until after receiving breakfast to make his move. He sat up and bunched his sheets in the center of the bed. He wasn't sure how his attempt at subterfuge would work, but hopefully, if the lump looked anything like it used to when he used this technique to fool his parents into believing that he was sleeping, it would pass someone's quick glance at his room.

Harry crept toward the door, squinting to keep the magic from hurting him. He carefully opened the door, and peeked out into the hallway. He saw some human-shaped magical auras on the left, but then they turned the corner. On the right, he saw an indentation in the wall. It looked rather like a window. Harry walked in a casual manner over to it, trying to look like he was allowed to be out in the corridor. After a few checks, Harry stood on his toes and ran his hands over the window. He found a latch and quietly opened the window. He peeked his head out and looked down. To his dismay, the magic on the wall of the hospital seemed to extend down very far. Harry thought he had heard someone mention that this was the fourth floor. Oh no. He should've remembered it.

What to do? Harry continued looking. Maybe he could utilize accidental magic to his advantage? Harry knew accidental magic was supposed to be _accidental_, as the name implied, but maybe he could try jumping out of the window, and with luck, he wouldn't get hurt.

Harry weighed his choices. Get stuck here and suffer burning vision and telling people about his new vision? Or risk dying from a fall?

Of course he was going to choose the fall.

He took a deep breath and clambered onto the ledge, slowly inching through the window. He glanced back, and the hallway remained oddly clear. Harry thought himself amazingly lucky that nobody had walked by yet. His part of the hospital must be fairly empty.

He shivered a bit as he looked down. Harry had forgotten that it was nearing wintertime, and that his plain and thin hospital clothes would be grossly insufficient. But it was too late to back out now. Harry took another deep breath before flinging himself off the ledge.

For one beautiful moment, Harry was flying by a mosaic of colors and swirls and other patterns. Then, Harry saw green. A dark, deep green that reminded him of the forests behind his old house, with scattered flashes of gold and dark, bluish shadows. It materialized from nowhere, and suddenly Harry wasn't falling rapidly. He slowly drifted to the ground, feet touching down on icy pavement littered with something sharp. He thought he cut his foot, but he wasn't sure. Harry stared at the pretty, multicoloured green, mesmerized. He steadied himself, and then watched with shocked eyes as the green condensed and seeped back into his skin.

He knew he had magic, but he had never seen anything underneath his skin like he had seen on other people. He never questioned not seeing it. But now that he had seen it in action, he thought he could see a green glitter where his arms were. For some reason, it was harder to see his own magic when it was inside his body than it was to see the magic of other people.

How odd. He was constantly learning new things about his magical vision.

As he contemplated this, he realized that he had to move. People would be searching from him soon, and it would be so totally _lame_ to be caught right outside the hospital!

Harry carefully stepped away from the beautiful wall of the hospital, trying not to cut his feet on the ground again. As he reached another wall without magic, Harry realized a flaw in his plan. He could see pretty well when surrounded by magic like he was in the hospital. But now, as he neared Muggle territory, he was becoming truly blind. Even though he'd only had his magical vision for two days, he'd already grown reliant on it.

Harry would have to make do. He wasn't going to cry, of course not.

He kept his hand on the wall as he cautiously shuffled forward, ears pricked for any sounds. Ahead of him, he could hear whispers of conversation, and the sound of automobiles. He must be in a city.

Suddenly, the wall ran out. Harry continued dragging his hand around the corner of it, and walked along the wall away from the hospital. People were shuffling by him, loud and rather violent. Someone pushed him into the wall as they muscled their way onward. But overall, he was simply ignored.

Harry continued on until suddenly, the wall ran out. He heard cars ahead and realized that there must be a _road _there. But he didn't know how he was going to cross it, with so many cars there! With a sudden bit of inspiration, he began trailing after a man and his companion, who were having a relaxed conversation. Listening carefully, Harry stopped when they stopped, and walked when they walked. He had to stick very close to them, as the crowds were remarkably thick, but he was doing fine. Harry allowed himself to feel happy. He stumbled occasionally on the uneven ground, but with every step, Harry knew he was getting further from the hospital.

Harry navigated the strange city for a few hours, choosing random people to shadow. Finally, freezing, with feet sore and bleeding, Harry stopped as the woman he was following passed through a park. The cold grass felt absolutely lovely on his worn feet, so he inched forward until he ran into a tree. There, he laid himself down among the roots, and decided to take a nap.

-break-

There was something poking him. Harry shivered violently and curled himself tighter. He was poked again, and rather painfully. Harry yelped, and sat up, rubbing at his eyes.

"Hello, boy. Where are your parents?" a male voice asked.

"Who's asking?" Harry inquired suspiciously, cautiously getting up.

The voice snorted. "I'm Constable Jeremy. Do you think I wear this uniform just to look pretty?"

Harry awkwardly wrung his hands together. "Sorry. I can't see," he said, alert for any suspicious sounds coming from the Constable.

The voice was silent for a long moment. "You can't see?" it asked hesitantly.

Harry sighed a little bit. "Yeah, it sucks. Sorry about not noticing your uniform."

The Constable made a choked sound. "Where are your parents?" he repeated.

"Oh, they died in an accident, even though I'm sure somebody killed them," Harry said authoritatively. His memories did not lie, even though he was sure that the stern questioning voice from before didn't quite believe him.

"Ah," the Constable said. "That's rather problematic. Where are you staying?"

"Nowhere," Harry said. "I was hoping I could find someplace to go."

"Do you have any family?"

"I don't think so."

"Is anyone looking for you?"

"No," Harry said decisively. The Muggle Constable didn't need to know that Harry ran away. It was going to be hard enough to evade the notice of the people in the hospital as it was.

"Well," the Constable said, "you look rather cold. Here, take my jacket. I know someplace where you could go."

Harry felt a thick and heavy jacket being placed around his shoulders. He sighed a little bit at that heavenly warmth. He carefully arranged it on his shoulders, fiddling with the large circular buttons on the front. Harry tilted his head up toward the Constable. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Constable Jeremy said, grabbing onto Harry's right hand. "Here, follow me very carefully. I'll try to keep you from bumping into anyone."

Harry was led for quite a while. Constable Jeremy did try to keep him from running into anything, although he could have done a better job warning Harry where the ground became uneven. Harry tripped several times. He kept quiet, though. He wanted to know where Constable Jeremy was leading him. He would be fine with it as long as nobody tried to give him to new parents.

After some time, Constable Jeremy slowed down and turned to Harry. "I'm taking you to Wool's Orphanage. Mrs. Cole isn't the nicest lady, but you'll have a place to stay and food to eat. If you're lucky, you might even get adopted."

Harry scoffed in his mind. He'd try to not get adopted. No new parents. The memories of his old ones would serve him just fine. "Alright," Harry said, trying to sound compliant.

"Here we are, then," Constable Jeremy said, and walked forward. Harry heard the loud screeching of a metal gate being dragged open. Harry was led up a cobblestone walkway to what he presumed was the orphanage. Constable Jeremy knocked on the door loudly several times before stepping back.

Harry heard the door open. A warm voice said "Hello, Jeremy" before falling silent. Harry had a strong feeling that he was being examined. He tried to stand up straighter, turning his eyes to where he imagined the head of the woman was. "Who is this?" the voice asked.

"Hello, Martha. Found this one curled under a tree in the park. Said his parents died and that nobody was looking for him. Do you have room for one more?" Constable Jeremy said.

"Well," Martha said, "I'd have to ask Mrs. Cole. But I think we could squeeze him in with Tom. He looks like he's the same age. But come in."

Constable Jeremy led Harry inside. Mercifully, it was warm inside. Harry awkwardly pulled off Constable Jeremy's jacket and held it out to him. He was rewarded with a chuckle, and the jacket was taken away.

"Mrs. Cole!" Martha called. "We have another one!"

"Bring him up!" Harry heard coming from above him. There must be several stories, Harry thought. Constable Jeremy started leading him, and then suddenly Constable Jeremy felt _taller._ Harry, confused, crashed his foot into something and fell. He fell forward onto what felt like stairs. The Constable forgot to warn him that they were there. Hissing in pain, Harry picked himself up, grabbing onto the railing.

"I'm sorry! I forgot!" the Constable said, sounding slightly guilty.

"Forgot what?" Martha asked curiously.

"Oh, he's blind," Constable Jeremy said, patting Harry's shoulder. "He seems so normal though that I forgot. Sorry about that," he added in Harry's direction. Harry grimaced a little bit but turned up the stairs, carefully pulling himself up. He wasn't going to cry. Not here.

Constable Jeremy followed him up, grabbing onto Harry's shoulder and steering him forward. He stopped suddenly and Harry was turned through a doorway, which clipped him on the shoulder. He winced, but suddenly he was forcibly pushed down onto a chair. He heard Martha whispering softly in front of him. He sat there for a minute, fiddling with the edges of his shirt. Suddenly, Constable Jeremy's voice rang out. "I need to get back to my patrol. Hope you like it here, boy!" Harry heard him get up from next to him, a chair squealing as it was pushed back. Then, Harry heard footsteps retreat.

He felt cold. He was alone now, in a strange place with a lady called Martha, and someone named Mrs. Cole. He kept breathing deeply. A few minutes passed before the hurried quiet conversation ended.

"I don't care, Martha. Someone would have roomed with Tom eventually, I expect. It's the only room we have. Go and get the children ready for dinner."

"Yes, Mrs. Cole." Martha said, leaving quickly. Harry thought that her footsteps sounded angry. But who was this 'Tom' character? Martha made his name sound ominous.

"Hello, boy. What's your name?" Mrs. Cole asked.

"H-harry," Harry said, surprised that she was talking to him. But of course, there wasn't anyone else left in the room.

"Well, Harry," Mrs. Cole said, "welcome to Wool's Orphanage. Tell me about yourself. Do you remember the names of your parents?"

Harry shook his head. He didn't want anyone finding out about his parents. If the wizards would actually search Muggle records…

"Do you have a last name?"

Harry thought this over for a second, but decided that it was safer not to say anything. So, he replied "no."

"Well," Mrs. Cole said, "in that case, we can provide you with one. Or you could choose one later if you wish."

"I'd like to choose one later, m'am," Harry said, suddenly remembering that manners were very important.

"Oh, you're a polite one!" Mrs. Cole said happily. "Well, that settles that. Martha said that you're blind?"

"Yes," Harry said, picking at a thread on the hem of his shirt.

"Well, in that case we'll have to work something out. Tell me what you need, and I'll try to provide it, alright?" Mrs. Cole said. "I don't really know how blind people get around, but I'll look into it. But for now, I think it's best to show you your room. Dinner starts soon."

Harry heard Mrs. Cole stand up, and stood up as well. She walked over to him and took his hand. Her hand felt cold, and the veins stood out a little bit. She led him out of the door to the room he was in (probably her office, he thought) and into the hallway. She then led him over to the stairs, giving him a warning, and then led him along another hallway. She then stopped at a room.

"This room is at the very end of the hallway, so it should be easy enough for you to find."

Mrs. Cole then knocked on the door.

"Tom?" she called. "You have a new roommate. Open the door."

Harry heard shuffling from the other side of the door. He heard the door open, and then Mrs. Cole forcefully walked him inside.

Harry froze.

Tom was glowing blue.

"Well, Harry," Mrs. Cole said, "this is Tom. Tom, this is Harry. He'll be your new roommate; Martha will bring an extra bed by later."

With that, Mrs. Cole _left the room._ Leaving him with Tom. Who was a wizard. Oh no.

They stared at each other for a few moments.

"Why are you here?" Harry suddenly blurted out, feeling mortified.

"What kind of question is that?" Tom asked. Harry saw that his deep blue magic flashed pale green. It was very pretty. Harry thought that Tom sounded rather hostile.

"W-well," Harry stammered, "I wanted to know why a wizard is in a Muggle orphanage."

Tom was silent for a moment before cautiously repeating "Wizard? Muggle?"

Harry paled. "You didn't know? Oh man, I'm going to be in so much trouble. Maybe." Harry wrung his hands again before furiously pulling at the thread of his shirt. Would he get in trouble for breaking the Statue of Secrecy? Tom wasn't a Muggle though. Oh gosh.

"Know what?" Tom's voice sounded a little high. Suddenly, Tom grabbed Harry's shirt, pulling him down onto something that Harry presumed to be a bed. Harry was exhausted, so when he felt that consciousness was slipping away in his panic, he let it fade gladly. The last thing he saw was Tom's pretty blue magic leaning over him. Pretty blue. Flashing green.


	2. A Whole New World

**Chapter 2**

Tom opened the door to his room feeling immensely confused.

It wasn't that surprising for someone new to show up, although he didn't expect to gain a roommate. Mrs. Cole had made it clear pretty early on how much disdain she held for him, even though he always tried to be polite in her presence. But why would she make someone room with him?

Oh. Tom remembered. The orphanage was getting pretty full now. Chances are, his was the last room left.

Mrs. Cole barked out a short introduction, punctuated with perfunctory motions between him and his _new roommate_, before she left. Ah, it never changed. She didn't like spending more time in his presence than was absolutely required.

Tom decided to study his roommate.

He really hoped that his roommate was nice. He'd tried to make friends with the other orphans, but something always made them act weird around him. Jumpy, even. It wasn't as bad as Mrs. Cole, but nevertheless, it still made something inside him hurt. His new roommate looked rather non-threatening; not like the bullies that terrorized Tom in the dark halls. That seemed to be a good sign.

In fact, Harry, as Mrs. Cole had called him, looked a little bit like Tom. He also had dark hair, although his hair looked as if it had been through a terrible storm and had been left to dry. Despite that, it was straight, unlike Tom's wavy hair. He wasn't very big for his age, which appeared close to Tom's, which made Tom happy. It wasn't often that he was bigger than someone in this horrid place. He also had the most curious green eyes that could have been glowing, being so intensely green. Tom suddenly realized that those eyes were staring at him with a terrified look.

That didn't bode well at all.

"Why are you here?" Harry blurted out. Tom stared at him in confusion. He _lived _here. It made more sense for him to be here than Harry! What kind of question was that? And the lack of manners! Mrs. Cole was going to be mad, Tom knew.

"What kind of question is that?" Tom asked with a tinge of anger. This was going all wrong. He was supposed to get along with his new roommate! This was his chance to win an ally before the other children in the orphanage scared him away. Harry didn't even have any time to grow to dislike him yet. His chance at maybe having - dare he say it - a _friend_ seemed to be disappearing faster than the sun at sunset. The second that thought crossed his mind, Tom immediately wiped it. There was no use being hopeful; it would only lead to disappointment in the end.

The next words out of Harry's mouth completely baffled Tom. Wizard? Muggle? He cautiously repeated them, watching Harry's face carefully. Was this a joke? A new prank that the other orphans had cooked up just for him, with this new stranger? So that he would not expect it? But something felt different about this. He couldn't quite understand what it was, but he had the feeling this was not a prank. Something in Harry's face - the way "muggle" rolled off his tongue with a practiced flair - clued him in. He felt a little bit of hope rise up in him. Harry had said "wizard." Having someone else call him a wizard made him remember _those times. _When, inexplicably, Tom had made something happen _just because he wished it_. Wizards did magic? That's what the books that Martha read out loud mentioned (not that he listened, of course). Was that what he did? No, he was being ridiculous. He was getting his hopes up for absolutely nothing. Remember, Tom, hopes lead to disappointments. Better to clear your mind of them before you get hurt. Magic did not exist; magic could _not exist. _

However, the horrified face that Harry pulled after blurting out that strange statement, complete with his panicked mutterings, struck a bolt of unease and fear down Tom's spine. He needed to find out what was going on. The way that Harry had mentioned him "not knowing something" as if it was _expected _for him to know this was too telling. It indicated truth. Tom had become rather skilled at detecting truth and lies; it was necessary to avoid the numerous traps the older orphans enjoyed setting up for him. Tom had to know more.

"Know what?" Tom demanded, grabbing onto Harry and pushing him onto the bed. Oh no, that was too rough. Bad idea. What happened to his resolve not to scare this one away? Too late anyway; Harry had been scared before even properly meeting Tom. Tom's mind was whirling with hopeful thoughts, with furious denials, and overall a blanket of sheer confusion and disbelief. The worst part was that there was a little part of his mind that was telling him that this was true; that Harry was to be believed.

Harry, gone pale, stared at him in fear before suddenly his eyes blanked and closed, Harry's body relaxing into the thin mattress.

Tom froze. Did Harry just...faint on him? Like the ladies that Martha told about in the books she read the other orphans? Like the swooning maidens who were too delicate to handle the tiniest bit of stress? For some reason, that thought seemed inappropriately funny as he looked at Harry's face.

Tom unclenched his hands from Harry's shirt and stared at him. Harry looked a little bit ragged. His plain white clothes that looked much like pajamas were covered in dirt and grass stains. There was also a long bit of thread that was hanging out of the hem of his shirt that appeared to be particularly frayed. Harry probably had a nervous habit of some sort. Tom continued looking him over, scanning him. Even though he knew that it wasn't really sleeping that Harry was doing, Tom felt an absurd amount of relief that someone actually permitted themselves to be unconscious in his presence (no matter how accidental it seemed).

As Tom's eyes wandered to Harry's hands, he noticed a streak of red curling over the fingers of his right hand. Tom looked Harry over closely, trying to find the source of blood that he thought he saw. As Tom's gaze drew by Harry's feet, he felt himself breathe in sharply. Harry's feet looked absolutely horrible. They looked dirty and bloody, and Tom could see a few cuts scattered. They also looked a bit pale and bluish. Why didn't Harry have shoes? Did he even bring anything with him besides the clothes on his back?

Tom decided that this wouldn't do at all. Martha hadn't brought by a new bed yet, so Tom was going to try to keep his bed as clean as possible while Harry took his unplanned nap. Mind set, Tom got up and walked out the door to the third floor bathroom down the hallway. He snatched a worn towel off of the handrack and walked over to the battered sink, wetting it. The water was cold, but he didn't want to go to the kitchens to heat it; better not to be a target. He clutched the wet hand towel and carefully ferried it to his room without dripping too much on the floors. Mrs. Cole would be very mad. Tom shivered.

Harry was still lying on his bed. Tom sighed a little before walking over and carefully trying to wash Harry's feet. Something in Tom rebelled at that action, but Tom quelled it. He didn't want a mess, and Harry's feet did look very battered. After he was done with that, he tried to clean off Harry's clothes somewhat, with limited success. His self-imposed tasks finished, Tom sat down next to Harry on the bed and thought over what had happened.

What did he know for sure? Harry looked terrified at first, much like the other orphans did whenever Tom was around. But they didn't start doing that until much later. At first, they were just reluctant to get near him. But Harry had recognized him or saw something in him that made him so scared. But then the way that he had looked at Tom almost incredulously when mentioning "wizard" and that strange word, "muggle," made it seem like Tom was missing a vital piece of information. It was like Harry was privy to some information that he thought Tom should have.

Maybe...he could also do magic. The fact that Harry seemed horrified when Tom didn't know made it seem like somebody forbid him to talk about it. Did that mean that there were more people out there? Tom wasn't sure if he dared to believe that magic existed, although it would explain so much. How Billy Stubbs began screaming when after he tried to punch Tom in the face. How his injuries didn't last longer than a day. How, when he was very hungry, the amount of food on his plate seemed to stay the same no matter how much he ate.

Tom desperately wanted answers. Harry had dangled something tantalizing right in front of his face before pulling it out of reach. For now, Tom decided, he was going to operate on the assumption that magic did exist, and that Harry knew something about it. Excessively hopeful or not, Tom had the feeling that he was right.

Hearing the dinner bell ring, Tom glanced quickly at Harry's still unconscious form and sighed. He headed down the stairs, nervous but also hopeful. Maybe he should try to grab some dinner for Harry. He would probably be hungry - no, he would be more receptive to Tom's questions - and would appreciate the food.

-break-

Tom was sitting in his room, slowly plodding through a dictionary he found in the play room, when he heard a sound. Suddenly excited, he put the book down and watched as Harry groaned and lifted his hands to rub blearily at his eyes. Harry slowly sat up, still rubbing, before slowly dropping his hands. Then, Harry's odd, glowing green eyes flashed to Tom, widening slightly. Harry's mouth dropped open.

"You passed out," Tom supplied helpfully. "You were probably hungry and tired. I snuck you some dinner." He motioned to the plate of vegetables and potatoes with the meager slice of ham that was lying on the windowsill.

Harry was looking at him suspiciously. "Okay." Harry looked in the direction of the windowsill for a moment before his face fell.

"Aren't you going to get it?" Tom asked incredulously. "You must be hungry."

"I am!" insisted Harry before looking down at his hands and fiddling with that one long thread. Tom was right; it must be a nervous tick. "I just can't see so…"

"What do you mean?" Tom asked. "Of course you can see; you definitely were staring at me earlier when Mrs. Cole brought you in. And when you woke up you definitely saw me."

Harry's face contorted into a rather suspicious expression. "Well," Harry said hesitantly, "I can't see muggle things."

That word again! "What does 'muggle' mean?" demanded Tom. "You mentioned it earlier like I was supposed to know what it means."

"I guess it's too late now," Harry said, fingers accidentally ripping the thread out of the shirt. They began scrabbling around in search of another. "Uh, hi Tom. I'm a wizard, and I'm pretty sure you're a wizard, and we're both in this orphanage, and 'muggle' means nonmagical."

Tom was silent for a moment before asking, "how do I know that you're telling the truth?"

Harry looked surprised for a moment before settling into a contemplative expression. "I guess you have to trust me?" he asked, peeking at Tom through his eyelashes. That reminded Tom of Harry's claims to be unable to see.

"So you're saying that you can't see things without magic? So you can only see magic?" That was the most bizarre thing he'd ever heard of. It did rather explain why Mrs. Cole was holding on to him in that odd way when he walked in. Wait a second..."So I have magic?"

"Well, from what I can see, yes," Harry said, studying him. "Yours is blue. It also has little bits of green in it." Harry coughed awkwardly. Tom thought he heard a low mutter of "I think it's pretty" from Harry's direction, and preened a little.

"Thanks," Tom said. "I think I believe you." Something was certainly going on, and the part of him that was insisting that what Harry was saying was true was growing. It felt absolutely right to think of magic and wizardry and muggles. Tom always knew that he was different, although he wasn't sure how. But now he had a name for why, and it was a brilliant reason. He had magic! And he wasn't alone. Looking at Harry's wide green eyes, he felt extremely reassured. Harry seemed to know things. He would explain.

Tom couldn't understand why he was trusting this stranger. But he couldn't bring himself to even contemplate the possibility that it was all a hoax.

"So, Harry…" Tom started, "what exactly do you know about this, then?"

The most fascinating four hours of Tom's rather short life began there, dinner forgotten. Harry told him about the Wizarding World, how there was a Ministry of Magic to keep law, how wizards would go to a school called Hogwarts and learn how to control their magic with a wand, how dragons and fairies and werewolves were real, how there was a whole secret community just hiding in plain sight all along. How Tom and Harry were part of this secret community already, from the very beginning. How when they were eleven they would receive a letter and would go away to school for most of the year, far away from the orphanage. How the reason that Tom was so above his peers was because wizarding children matured faster at a young age to keep accidental magic occurrences down. How great witches and wizards like Merlin and Morgana le Fay shaped the world. How Tom suddenly had a future that he could look forward to.

How Harry had been part of an attack on his parents and how he was hit with a spell of some kind that completely destroyed his sight. How even though his eyes were healed (in a magical hospital!) he couldn't see. How he eventually began to see magic, how he decided to escape the hospital so that he wouldn't be given away, and how he had ended up here. How Tom was the only other wizard in the orphanage, how magic was to be kept secret, how they were now bound together with a secret kept for ages that only they knew.

By the time Martha marched through the third floor hallway, calling lights out, Tom and Harry had already squeezed onto Tom's bed (Martha didn't have the greatest memory, so she forgot to bring an extra bed) and all Tom could think of was that he thought that he had made a friend and how determined he was to keep him from being taken away.

* * *

><p><em>This is Chapter 2! It turned out a bit short, but I just wanted to give Tom's point of view on the matter. He's particularly difficult to write. I'm afraid I made his thought processes sound a bit jagged. I went over this three times trying to fix that! Chapter 3 should be up soon.<em>


	3. Can You See Me?

**Chapter 3**

**November 12, 1932**

Harry woke up slowly, lazily snuggling into his warm bed. He yawned a bit, opening his eyes. He started awake, sitting up, staring at the pretty blue magic. Oh yeah. Tom. Harry giggled a little bit at his paranoia, studying the magic a bit closer.

It was so pretty! It made up Tom's form in a very dense array of lines that reminded Harry of threads that ran along his arms and curled around in his chest. Funnily enough, the lines seemed to be thinnest around Tom's head. For some reason, that observation just seemed right to Harry. His parents had always said that magic was governed by the heart, not the mind.

Harry frowned. His parents were gone. Even after quite a few days (Harry had lost count of the days in the hospital) that fact made him very sad. His dad wouldn't transfigure funny things for his amusement anymore. His mum wouldn't give him crushingly strong hugs anymore. Harry felt tears coming, so he rubbed madly at his eyes. He needed to distract himself from bad thoughts. Crying wasn't a good idea now. They were gone forever, no matter how Harry loathed to admit it.

Harry reached out a hand and poked Tom's face. To Harry's shock, Tom burst into a sitting position after a second, his magic forming claws instead of relaxing in soft coils like it was just a moment before. After a second, where Tom was most likely staring at Harry, Tom relaxed, magic included, although Harry noted that it still looked a little agitated.

"Why'd you do that?" Tom asked, voice blurry with sleep. "I could've hit you."

"I was bored," Harry replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "I don't know what you're supposed to do here."

"Oh well," Tom said, rubbing at his eyes. "First, breakfast."

Harry was instantly interested. "Oh, it's been a while since I've eaten," Harry said longingly.

"Oh yeah," Tom said sheepishly. "We missed dinner yesterday. I didn't want to interrupt you."

"Well," Harry said thoughtfully, "I would've missed dinner too if I could learn about magic."

"We'll miss breakfast if we don't hurry," Tom said, although Harry could hear the suppressed excitement in Tom's voice. Tom got up from the bed and walked away. Harry listened to the rustling noises as Tom stuck his hands into something. Probably a dresser of some sort.

Tom came back, thrusting something scratchy into Harry's arms. "You'll be getting new clothes later, so I guess you can wear mine now."

"Oh," Harry said, "thanks." Harry pulled at the clothes and ascertained that he was holding a very ragged shirt and a pair of rather warm trousers. He shrugged and started to undress.

"I'm sorry about that shirt."

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"The shirt. It's a bit old, but I haven't retrieved my laundry today."

"That's fine," Harry said. He thought that he couldn't really complain very much, if that was all that Tom had to offer. He didn't want to be rude. His parents made sure he had good manners...no Harry, stop thinking about them.

Harry finished pulling on the clothing, watching as Tom also finished pulling something on. "Hmmm…" Harry said contemplatively.

"What is it?" Tom asked.

"Well," Harry said, "I can see your magic through your clothing like it's not even there. But, when you were looking for the clothes over there," motioned Harry in the direction of the dresser, "I couldn't see the magic on your arms when you were looking for clothes."

"Oh, that's interesting!" Tom said excitedly. "Maybe you can't see through wood? Is it too thick? Or maybe clothing is just too close to the skin?"

"We could try it out?" Harry offered. "It would be interesting to see what I can see through."

Tom grinned. Harry noticed with a start that he could tell how Tom's face was moving by watching the threads there. He didn't believe he could notice that before, but perhaps now he was more used to seeing people's magic. Or maybe his magic-sight improved overnight like last time. If that was really what happened, the change wasn't as extraordinary. But that made Harry happier anyway. At least he'd be able to see Tom's facial expressions now.

"After breakfast, though," Tom said. "Let's go." Tom grabbed hold of Harry's arm and started dragging him in the direction of the door. Harry noticed with interest that his feet didn't hurt so much anymore.

"Tom!" Harry complained. "Slow down."

"Sorry," Tom said, not sounding even the tiniest bit sorry. "Can't be late."

Harry sighed, but nevertheless allowed himself to be dragged. Tom opened the door and pulled Harry through into the hallway. There, Tom paused for a second. Harry used that moment to rub his feet against the floor. To his surprise, they did hurt a lot less. Harry assumed that Tom must have helped with them, and Harry himself just didn't notice. More proof that Tom was a good person.

"Who's that?" an unfamiliar voice asked. Harry jerked a bit with surprise.

"Poor new kid. Stuck with creepy Tom." said another voice.

"Hey, new kid! If you know what's good for you, you'd stay away from the freak," the first voice said.

Harry watched as Tom's magic grew agitated again. The claws of magic looped out from Tom's body, slid forward through the air a foot, and then merged back with Tom's main body of magic. It looked rather angry. Harry was struck with a thought. Was this related to accidental magic?

"But Tom's nice," Harry said, trying to sound innocent. For some reason, he felt that maybe that would diffuse the situation somewhat. Tom was getting very mad, and the other orphans might act rashly. Also, accidental magic in front of muggles was never a good idea.

"So you think," the second voice said.

"He's evil. He'll kill you and then cut you up and look at your insides!" the first voice said.

Harry noted that Tom seemed to stiffen a little, magic stilling. Was there some truth in that accusation? No matter. Harry would find out later what that jab was about.

"He's been nice so far," Harry said. "He's showing me where to get breakfast."

"He'll throw you down the stairs!" the first voice insisted, and Harry started as a cold hand grabbed onto his other arm, tugging insistently.

"I know you have to share a room with him, but it's okay. We'll help you out," the first voice said. It could have sounded reassuring if not for the bitter note of fear Harry could detect hiding in the voice.

"No thank you," Harry said, trying to shake the arm free. "I'll judge for myself."

That was the wrong thing to say.

The hand let go of him suddenly. "He's gotten to you already?" the second voice asked, fearful.

"It's too late now," the first voice echoed. "Let's get away from these freaks, John."

"Okay," John said. Harry could hear his footsteps draw away. A second pair of footsteps soon started to follow, before nearing Harry. He stumbled as someone knocked their shoulder into him, falling into Tom. Harry fell on top of Tom, who was still suspiciously silent. The footsteps left.

"Tom?" Harry asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Tom said absently, shoving at Harry. "You're heavy."

"Sorry," Harry said, rolling off of him. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Tom said shortly, getting up. Harry watched him carefully. His magic was still. It was as if Tom was in shock.

"What happened?" Harry asked cautiously. "Why did you freeze like that? Even your magic stopped moving."

Tom was silent as he pulled Harry off of the floor.

He was silent the whole way down to the first floor, aside from a muttered comment, "stairs," after Harry tripped the first time they went down the steps. He led Harry along quietly to the dining room, settling him down at a chair before leaving "to get us food." Harry watched as his magic flashed in and out of sight, seeing the outlines of many tables and chairs. He waited patiently, fiddling with his hands again. After a few minutes passed, Harry jerked as he heard someone sit down.

"Hello there!" said a cheerful voice. "I'm Alyssa."

"Hello," Harry replied cautiously. "My name is Harry."

"Martha told me about you already," Alyssa said flippantly. "So, is it true?"

"What's true?" Harry asked. Alyssa sounded like a gossip.

"Are you really," Alyssa whispered, leaning closer, "blind?"

Harry sighed. Was it so hard to believe? He had a feeling this wouldn't be the very first time someone asked him that question. "Yes," he said, trying to keep his annoyance out of his tone.

"So, you can't see how many fingers I'm holding up?" Alyssa asked excitedly.

"Obviously not," Harry replied, struggling to sound normal. It wouldn't do to aggravate any more orphans, especially since they were going to be sharing living space.

"That's cool!" Alyssa exclaimed. "I have to tell the others!" She pushed the chair back, probably getting up, before sitting back down again with a plop. "Actually," she said, "there was something else."

"Oh?" Harry asked.

"Is it true that you're rooming with _Tom?_" Alyssa asked with a tone of horror and excitement. "John and Robert told me that you said that he was okay. Is he really?"

Before Harry could reply, a familiar voice cut in. "Yes, he's rooming with me."

Harry jerked. He hadn't even noticed Tom come closer, which was odd since Tom's magic was stretching at least a foot out from his body again.

"Here's your food, Harry," Tom said coldly, turning towards Alyssa. "That's my spot."

"Of course!" Alyssa said hurriedly. Harry heard the chair jerk, so he assumed that Alyssa ran away.

"Was that necessary?" Harry asked. Tom just looked mulish.

"Did you like her company?" Tom asked, almost angrily.

"Not particularly, but if you scare everyone it's no wonder that nobody seems to like you."

"Shut up," Tom said, beginning to eat. Harry felt in front of him carefully, locating a fork. He began to stab at his plate, humming happily when he found something.

Breakfast went slowly, with Harry making a bit of a mess of himself trying to eat eggs until Tom huffed and cut them into small pieces, despite Harry's protestations. Eventually, Tom grabbed their plates and left to put them away. Alyssa ran up again, plopping herself into Tom's chair.

"You know," Alyssa said contemplatively, "maybe he is alright."

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"I saw him cut your food for you."

Harry flushed. "I was perfectly capable of eating without any help."

"How?" Alyssa asked. "I don't get it."

Harry huffed, searching out Tom's magic. Alyssa was rather annoying. As his eyes focused on Tom's magic, which was drawing nearer, snapping furiously, he heard the chair rattle again.

"Thanks," Harry said before Tom could snap at him again. "She was being annoying."

"Of course she was," Tom said. "Let's go back to our room."

"Okay," Harry said slowly, "but only if you tell me what happened in the hallway."

Harry crossed his arms, staring at Tom searchingly. Tom appeared very uncomfortable for a few moments before he threw his hands up and sighed. "Okay, you pest."

Harry beamed at him. grabbing onto Tom's arm. "Lead on, valiant knight!"

Tom snorted a bit, but obliged.

Soon, they were back in their room. Martha had finally brought up a ratty cot. Harry sat on it, shifting uncomfortably as something seemed to poke him. Tom's face was filled with disbelief.

"They're giving you _that?_" Tom asked incredulously. "That cot is ancient."

"I guess they don't have much else?" Harry said.

"That's just terrible. Get off of that." Tom commanded. Tom got up and pulled Harry off of the cot. "We're getting rid of that."

"If you don't mind me asking," Harry said, "how exactly are you going to do that?"

"There will be an accident," Tom said simply.

Harry raised his eyebrows but stayed silent. Tom pulled Harry down next to him on his bed, settling himself crosslegged across from Harry.

"So," Tom said. "You wanted to know."

"Well, yes," Harry said. "We're friends, right? Friends know everything about each other."

Tom gave a weak smile. "Yeah."

Harry waited for Tom to begin speaking. His fingers began searching out the ends of the ragged shirt for another thread to play with. After a few tense moments went by, Tom started.

"I was curious, one day." Tom glanced at Harry before fixing his gaze on his feet. "I wanted to know what was inside us. I knew there was blood because when Billy punches me, that comes out. But I didn't know what was really inside. And Mrs. Cole forbid me from going to the library and I had to know!"

Harry watched as Tom bit his lip. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. He honestly wouldn't be too surprised. With how Tom's magic defaulted into claws half the time, it wasn't much of a stretch to imagine Tom committing some violent act.

"So," Harry asked cautiously, "what did you cut open?"

Tom froze, staring at him. "How did you know?"

"I guessed," Harry said, smiling. "But really, tell me."

Tom looked at Harry searchingly for a little while, as if gauging Harry's reaction. "Well," Tom began slowly, "there was a rat in my room that kept trying to bite me."

"That's gross!" Harry exclaimed. "Rats are just icky!"

"Yeah, I know," Tom said with relish. "I killed it with a knife I stole from the kitchens. And then it was just there, you know? I cut it open to look inside. Robert saw me, I think, when he was calling everyone to dinner."

"Oh," Harry said. "Did you learn anything?"

"Well," Tom said contemplatively, "everything's really bloody inside. No wonder we bleed whenever we cut ourselves."

"That's kind of gross," Harry said, poking at his leg.

"Yeah, I didn't try that again," Tom said. "I read about anatomy when I got to go to the library again. I still have a book about it, I think."

"Oh, really?" Harry asked. "Could you read to me?"

"I don't have time to read it out loud to you!" Tom protested. "Can't you read yourself?"

"No," Harry said, looking at Tom pointedly.

"Oh. Sorry," Tom said, looking sheepish.

"How am I supposed to learn anything if I can't read? I want to know anatomy too!" Harry pushed. "Also, maybe reading out loud will help you remember things?"

Tom was quiet for a minute, magic spiraling in the confines of his skin. If Harry squinted, it almost looked like the magic was shaped like a question mark. But that could be wishful thinking, Harry reminded himself. Why would magic make shapes like that? Another thing to investigate. Tom suddenly straightened, and slid off the bed.

"Alright," Tom said with a sigh. "I'll read to you. But no falling asleep on me! And if you don't listen and actually pay attention, then I won't read to you anymore."

"Deal!" Harry said cheerfully. He watched as Tom walked over to another corner of the room and opened a door of some sort. After examining the parts of Tom's magic that was blocked, Harry decided that it must be a wardrobe of some sort. Tom shuffled in there for a minute before returning, sitting at the head of the bed, leaning next to the wall.

Harry moved closer, settling himself next to Tom, as Tom began to read out loud a fairly dry text about human anatomy. Despite the subject manner not being as interesting as Quidditch or his mum's lessons in beginning Charm theory, Harry found that he was riveted. The fact that Tom was actually reading out loud to him just made him feel warm inside.

They sat that way the rest of the morning, Tom's voice droning on and on about blood vessels, Harry listening quietly. Tom wouldn't know this detail until much later, but eventually he would have trouble reading without reading things out loud, and would have to make do with whispering under his breath when Harry wasn't around. Harry would find that he would never remember things quite as well if Tom wasn't the one reading to him.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, Tom put his book down. "Harry," he croaked, "I don't think I can read out loud that long."<p>

"Oh," Harry said, waking up from a slight daze. "Okay, let's play a game."

"What game?" Tom asked cautiously. "Nobody ever wanted to play with me, so I don't think I know very many."

"That's horrible!" Harry exclaimed. "I know a lot! I used to play with Lucretia. I can teach you."

"Really?" Tom asked, crossing his arms. "Tell me about them."

"Well, I used to love playing Dragontamer! But we don't have enough people to make that fun. Oh, I also liked to play Aurors. And sometimes we would play Werewolf Hunt, although that always made Mum mad."

"Why?" Tom inquired.

"She said it was mean to werewolves, so she would call it Hide and Seek instead."

"Oh, I know that game!" Tom said. "Sometimes Billy and Amy gather everyone to play it, although they like looking for me to hit me. I'm always better than them, though."

"I wouldn't hit you," Harry said. "Would you want to play that?"

"Sure," Tom agreed, smiling a bit. "Do you want to play outside? It's a bit cold but there's a bit of plants to hide behind in the courtyard."

"Sure!" Harry said cheerfully. "But," he said, fingering his shirt, "I don't think I'm dressed for it. Mum always cast a Warming Charm on me before I went out…"

"Oh, I forgot!" Tom said, looking furious. "I was going to get my laundry."

Harry got the impression that Tom didn't like forgetting things much.

"It's okay," Harry tried to reassure, but Tom would have none of it.

"Just wait here," Tom commanded, getting up. "I'll grab it real quick, and I'll nick you some gloves since I only have one pair."

"Thanks...wait a second!" Harry protested, getting up as well. "If you steal gloves for me, then someone else won't have any!"

"That would be their problem, though, wouldn't it?" Tom said flippantly. "They should've hid it better."

"Still!" Harry protested. "Stealing is wrong!"

"No it's not," Tom spat. "When everyone else has more than you, I'm sure it's only fair that you even out the advantage. Do you _want_ to freeze your fingers so bad that they'll fall off?"

Harry paled. "Would that really happen?" he asked fearfully, rubbing his hands together.

"Yes," Tom said venomously. "It will. So, you'll take the gloves."

"Okay," Harry said, biting back his protestations. It would be so convenient to have a wand so that they could cast Warming Charms! No wonder his mum always insisted on them when he went outside to play. But Harry was attached to his fingers, and if everyone else really did have more than him, then maybe it was okay? Just this once? For some reason, Harry was finding it hard to apply his mum's talks on doing what was right to this situation.

"Good," Tom said, walking to the door. "Remember, you are more important than anyone else."

"Okay," Harry repeated, feeling his fingers very carefully as he watched Tom's magic disappear through the doorway. What Tom was saying did make sense in some way. He was new to the orphanage, so he hadn't really received much at all. Which reminded Harry...what kind of place was this? He'd been here a day, and he'd only received a horrible cot that Tom promised to get rid of, and not much else. The food wasn't particularly good, nor particularly plentiful, but it was enough. But clothes! And nobody noticed Harry's injuries. In fact, only Tom did! Harry didn't really notice at the time, but he was sure that Tom was the one who fixed them. It was as if the adults in the orphanage were somewhere else entirely!

Harry started to regret being left at this orphanage (maybe he could have found an alternative to new parents?) before he realized that he would have never met Tom. And Tom was so lonely, surrounded by muggles all the time! And it was nice to make a new friend, especially one that seemed to be nice about Harry's sorta-blindness. Harry doubted that he could have convinced Lucretia to read to him. He probably could convince Minerva to read to him, but she would sound so exasperated having to read to a "little kid" that it wouldn't be worth it. Harry wasn't that little!

Harry continued looking around Tom's - wait no, _his and Tom's _- room. Maybe it would be a good idea to get acquainted with it. He got up and walked slowly over to where he remembered seeing Tom look for the book. Harry ran his hands over the wood, feeling numerous scratches and a few chips. He suspected that the wardrobe must be very old, since Tom didn't seem like the kind of person to be careless with his things. Harry carefully opened it, sticking his hand inside. He felt clothes and more clothes, as well as a few shelves filled with some small, interestingly shaped items. Harry pulled one of the items closer, and ghosted his fingers over the surface. It was long and sharp, and it was rather cold at one end. Was this the knife Tom had used on the rat? Harry put it aside.

Hm, what was this? Harry thought that he felt a zipper of some sort. He pulled at it, and the box opened. Inside, Harry felt some pencils and pens. Feeling a little bit deeper, he felt a pad of paper. Was Tom an artist, perhaps? Harry decided that he would ask Tom about it later.

Finished with his investigation (it was _not _snooping since the room was now _theirs_!) Harry padded back to the bed and plopped down. Just in time, too, as Harry noticed the blue of Tom's magic a few seconds before Tom walked through the doorway.

"I found some gloves," Tom said, throwing something at Harry. Harry tried to catch it, but was hit in the face instead. Huffing in irritation, Harry pulled the gloves off of his face and stroked them with his fingers. They felt woolen and warm.

"Here," Tom said, still sounding a bit cold. Harry started as Tom pulled a hat on Harry's head. "I also have an extra scarf," Tom said, dropping it onto Harry's lap. Harry smiled a bit as Tom walked over to the dresser and started putting clothes inside it from the box he brought in.

"Thanks," Harry said, feeling very warm.

"It's nothing," Tom said dismissively. "Martha wanted me to tell you that she'll be coming by in a few hours to look for clothes that the others don't fit anymore, and if that's not enough, she'll take you shopping."

Finally, Harry thought. "Okay. But let's go and play hide and seek first, okay?"

"Sure," Tom said. "I'm ready."

Tom led Harry outside into the courtyard. "I'll count to thirty while you hide," Tom said.

Harry grinned. "Make it twenty!"

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Alright then. One…two...three…"

Harry ran off in a random direction, shouting behind him, "keep your eyes closed!" Harry raced toward where he remembered the gate of the orphanage to be. He slammed into the wall with a grunt, and began running sideways along it, running a hand across the rough, stone surface. He crashed into someone else who yelled "hey, watch where yer goin'!" but kept running. Harry's time was running out. He could hear that Tom was on fifteen. Harry stuck out his left hand and the second it hit a tree, Harry skidded to a stop and flopped onto the ground.

The ground was obnoxiously cold and icy. Harry scanned the courtyard, watching as Tom's distinctive blue magic began whirling around him, making that curious, question mark shape over and over again. Tom spun around and began walking in the direction that Harry had started to run in.

Harry sniggered a bit. He was sure that he ran fast enough that Tom would take some time to find him. As Harry watched, however, Tom glanced in his direction and started walking toward him.

No! Harry was sure he hid behind a plant of some sort. He should be fairly hidden. Tom had barely started searching! Harry sighed in resignation as Tom walked up to him and kicked him in the side.

"Found you," Tom said gleefully. "Get up before you freeze half to death."

"Aw!" Harry whined. "How did you find me so fast?"

"Well," Tom said, laughing, "I could see you easily."

Harry frowned. "I hid behind a tree."

Tom raised his eyebrows at Harry. "It's wintertime. Do you expect trees to have enough leaves to hide you?"

Harry tried sitting up before plunking himself back down onto the icy ground. "I give up," Harry said. "You win."

"Not yet," Tom said. "You have to try finding me as well."

Harry looked at him dubiously. "You expect me to find you? I can't see, you know."

"You can see my magic, can't you?" Tom said. "I think that evens it out."

Harry made a noise of understanding. "Then watch as I beat you!"

"Not likely," Tom sniffed.

"I will," Harry insisted. "I'm counting now. One...two...three…"

Harry closed his eyes, catching a glimpse of Tom running away, magic swirling out in excitement. He continued counting to twenty, although he was unsure that he counted at a consistent rate. It wasn't cheating if he speeded up by accident, right?

"Twenty!" Harry called out happily. "I'm going to find you, Tom!"

Harry scanned the area in front of him for a glimpse of blue. On the first scan, he didn't notice anything, but on his second look he thought he saw some excited blue threads of magic coiling out from behind something. Harry smirked. He was so going to find Tom. Faster than Tom found him, anyway!

Harry started walking towards where he saw Tom's magic, hand out in front to make sure he didn't hit anything. As he halved the distance between him and Tom, he heard jogging footsteps approach from his left.

"Hey, you!" called out a high-pitched voice. "Stop!"

Harry slowed to a halt, irritated. This wouldn't count as part of Harry's searching time, surely? "What is it?" Harry asked.

"Are you really playing a game with _Tom?"_

Again with the incredulous tone? "Yes," Harry snapped. "And you are?"

"Amy Benson," Amy said. "I almost couldn't believe it when I heard from Robert!"

"Well, it's true," Harry snapped. "Now, I was busy."

Harry set off toward Tom, growling a bit when the blue magic was nowhere to be seen. Tom must have seen him approach and moved. Sneaky, cheating bastard! Harry mentally apologized to his parents, wherever they were now, for swearing.

Aha! As Harry's hand hit an old barrel half embedded in the ground, he caught a glimpse of Tom a few feet away, hiding underneath something. As Harry stomped over to Tom, he kicked at the object Tom was hiding under. It rang under his foot, like metal.

"Hey!" Tom said, pulling himself out from underneath it. "That was mean!"

"Sorry," Harry said. "I was irritated."

"Yeah, that's Amy," Tom spat, glaring behind Harry. "She's always really mean. She thinks that just because she's two years older she can order everyone around, me included."

"I see," Harry said, before bursting into laughter. Tom looked at him, confused, before sighing and hitting his forehead. "That was a terrible joke," Tom said.

"I know," Harry said, "but it was oddly funny."

"Anyways," Tom said, "don't kick the metal slide when I'm hiding under it, okay?"

"Sure," Harry agreed. "I'm not promising anything about when Amy's underneath it, though."

Tom smiled proudly at Harry. "That's perfectly alright."

"So," Harry said, looking behind him into the darkness before focusing on the dancing of Tom's magic, "wanna play again?"

They ended up spending the whole morning and a good part of the afternoon playing all sorts of variations on hide and seek. Harry was horrible at hiding, no matter how hard he tried. Even after getting the location of everything in the courtyard, he still couldn't hide well enough to keep Tom from finding him almost instantly. If Harry didn't know better, he would think Tom was an owl, with his finding-Harry skills!

Tom didn't do much better. His hiding places got distinctly more ridiculous and impossible, but his excitement in finding "the perfect place to hide" caused his magic to dance feet away from his actual body, making finding him easy for Harry. Despite how quick the game always ended, Tom and Harry nevertheless continued playing it, if only to tease each other about how terrible they were at hiding.

Eventually, it was time for lunch. As Harry and Tom trooped inside behind all the other kids who were playing outside, shaking ice out of their clothing, Martha spoke up.

"Harry dear, after lunch meet me here, okay? We'll look for some clothes for ya."

"Sure, ma'am," Harry said, shooting a look at Tom. While Tom's face was blank, his magic roiled about him in irritation. Harry wondered why Tom didn't like her. Besides being forgetful, Martha seemed nicer than Mrs. Cole.

"Alright, dearie," Martha said. "Have a nice lunch! And be nice, Tom," she said, pointing a finger.

That answered Harry's question.

Harry elbowed Tom in the side, and he muttered "yes, Martha."

Martha then left them to enter the dining room. Harry pulled at Tom's arm.

"Come on, I'm hungry!" Harry said. Tom seemed to snap out of his daze (was this a recurring issue for him?) and began to lead Harry to their table.

Harry smiled a little bit as Tom fetched them both food. They proceeded to enjoy a small, yet rather filling lunch, teasing each other all the while.

Harry thought afterwards that this was what it must be like to have a sibling.

* * *

><p><em>And that was Chapter 3! I had so much trouble finding a place to break it off. After a few more chapters that go day by day, listing important events as Harry settles in and meets the other orphans, I'll begin doing minor time-skips to put in important scenes. In my head, I'm planning this fic to continue at least through Hogwarts, although I haven't planned many things for it yet. I'm open to suggestions for their Hogwarts adventures! <em>

_Right now, they're five, although Tom is actually almost six. I know they talk and act a little too mature for their age; it's partially me being lazy, since I have a lot of things to fit in, and it has to be set early enough that Tom wouldn't be extremely suspicious of anyone new. I also have a headcanon that during the Middle Ages, where persecution for magic was high, kids with high maturity levels at a young age would have less frivolous displays of magic and would therefore survive more often. If that lame explanation isn't enough for you, then too bad. ;D_

_Next chapter will most likely cover Harry getting clothing and perhaps a trip out into London. _


	4. A Burning Shirt

_Written listening to Vance Joy's song, Riptide._

* * *

><p>After Harry finished stuffing his lunch into his mouth (something that made Tom stare at him in horror), he leapt out of his chair. Finally, new clothes! Although Harry had never been a very big fan of clothing before, the prospect of getting new clothes that were actually <em>his<em> was a very attractive prospect. No matter how well-meaning Tom was, his clothes just didn't fit Harry that well.

It was unfair! Harry knew that Tom was about the same age as him, but he was already bigger! Harry suspected that he would be small for his age for a while yet (something that his father had teased him about). Well. At least Harry could hope that one day, he'd outgrow Tom. He was going to be a famous Auror. How lame would it be if he was shorter than all the dark wizards he defeated?

Harry snapped out of his thoughts as Tom poked him on the forehead. "You look like Mrs. Cole after she has her gin," Tom criticized, tilting his head and examining Harry's face with interest. "What were you thinking of?"

"Nothing," Harry said, trying to be nonchalant. "I'm just a bit excited about getting new clothes."

"Sure," Tom said, tone disbelieving. "Well, I don't know what Martha is going to say, but I'm coming with you. Knowing her, she'd dress you in terribly girly things because she finds it _cute_." Tom said that with a voice that implied that cute was the worst possible trait that Harry could have.

"Cute?" Harry asked, horrified. "Help me, Tom!"

"Gladly," Tom said, pursing his lips and grabbing onto Harry's arm. He dragged Harry out of the dining room to the back hallway where they had entered from the courtyard. They both stopped to wait.

Martha was nowhere to be seen.

After a few minutes had gone by, Harry started to fidget. Standing was so boring! Where was Martha? Harry's estimation of the quality of his new living accommodations was reaching dismal levels. Tom's here, Tom's here, Harry repeated in his head. That made it worth it.

Harry glanced at Tom. Tom's face was so expressionless! It was kind of creepy. It was almost as if Tom wasn't really Tom at all. Maybe it was a huge, human size doll? Harry shuddered at the thought. They stood waiting for a few more minutes. Harry couldn't handle it anymore. Harry _had_ to check.

Harry slowly lifted one finger and, when Tom showed no signs of noticing the small movement, he quickly jabbed it into Tom's cheek.

"Ow," Tom said, glaring at Harry. "What was that for?"

"You were being too quiet," Harry said. "I thought you were replaced by a big Tom statue!"

"That's a ridiculous idea," Tom said. Despite his scathing tone, Harry thought he could detect a hint of a smile. Ha, Harry was winning!

"No it's not!" Harry insisted, poking Tom's cheek again. "Weird things happen with magic all the time. You never know. Weird things exist. I'm pretty sure there's some kind of magical creature that can turn people into stone!"

Tom sighed. "Let's just wait for Martha."

Harry pouted, but acquiesced. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait much longer. A very flustered-sounding Martha burst through the door to the courtyard, patting down her clothes.

"There you are, Harry!" Martha called out, almost tripping over her own feet as she closed the door. After she quietly shut it, she turned to Harry, voice playful. "Keep this a secret, will ya?"

Harry was about to give a sound of agreement when next to him, Tom snorted. Harry could hear as Martha instantly shifted herself, facing Tom. "You too, Tom," Martha said coldly.

Tom rolled his eyes. "Of course."

"Now, Harry," Martha said kindly, "let's go get you some clothes. I have some in the storage room that might fit you!" Harry thought she sounded rather suspicious. It was as if after threatening Tom, she completely forgot about his existence at all!

That wasn't right. Tom was a human too! Well, a more awesome human than all these Muggles around, anyway. Muggles just didn't understand it. But still! What exactly had Tom done to deserve this? Harry had noticed that Tom had a tendency to be a bit snarky and rude, not to mention his furious belief in the merits of stealing, but nevertheless! Harry was going to show Martha that Tom wasn't that bad. Maybe she would be nicer to him if she saw how nice Tom actually was? It seemed to work remarkably well on Alyssa.

"Okay," Harry said evenly, resolving to make things right. "Can Tom come too?"

Martha was quiet for a few seconds. "Are you _sure?_" she asked faintly.

"Of course!" Harry said innocently.

"Well," Martha said. "Then follow me."

Tom started pulling Harry forward, making Harry sigh a little. Martha completely forgot that he couldn't see her. The negligence was astounding. Harry was sure that if his parents were still around, they'd actually make an attempt to actually care! Much like Tom was doing, actually.

Tom led Harry down a few hallways and up a flight of stairs. Harry thought that he could remember where they were. They were close to where Mrs. Cole's office was. He was getting better at orienting himself inside the orphanage, which was good. He couldn't always rely on Tom to take him places. Tom might not always be around!

That thought made Harry feel a little cold. Of course he will be around, Harry reminded himself. Where would he go? His mind didn't provide any answer to that. A chill raced down Harry's spine faster than a Cooling Charm would have.

Harry clutched Tom's arm a little harder. He thought he heard Tom make a sound of surprise, but when he heard no other reaction, Harry continued holding onto Tom's arms tightly.

He wasn't sure exactly what was going on. He'd only known Tom for a little while, but already the idea of being without Tom scared him. Harry had already realized that Tom was the only reason that Harry was staying in this particular orphanage, as it didn't have any redeeming qualities aside from Tom's presence. Harry was sure that he could hide just as easily from mean people trying to give him new family in a different orphanage. He would just have to find another policeman and repeat his story.

Suddenly, Harry froze. Tom continued on, stumbling a little bit when Harry stood immovably.

"Harry?" Tom whispered, pulling at Harry's arm. "What's wrong?"

Harry shook his head, staring numbly forward. He registered that he was moving forward again, but he ignored that little detail.

Hadn't he just thought about Tom being like a sibling, while they were eating lunch? How was that any different from getting new parents. Of course, Tom wasn't exactly forced on him, but still! He was a replacement family. And that was unacceptable. Harry's parents, although dead, were his only real family. He couldn't, he absolutely couldn't replace them!

That would be like admitting that they had been useless.

He couldn't do it.

Harry filled himself with steely resolve. Tom was great. He wasn't going to be letting go of Tom soon. But he would never think of Tom as his family. That thought would be destroyed if it ever came up. His real family, his dead family, would be the only one. Tom could just be a really good best friend. Yes, that was it.

Harry felt a little lighter.

Coincidentally, after Harry's big realization and resolution, Harry found that they had reached their destination.

"In here, Harry!" Martha said cheerfully, though Harry could detect a note of strain in her voice. She was purposely ignoring Tom's presence again. Harry sighed a little.

"Okay, Martha!" Harry said with false cheer. Tom pulled him through a doorway, his magic flickering a little angrily again. Harry watched, bemused, as Tom's magic stretched pretty far out, flooding the whole entire room.

Blue threads, flickering green on occasion, spread everywhere, passing through all sorts of objects. Harry found that he could actually see the room! It was hard to tell, exactly, but the magic seemed to stay mostly in the air, which allowed Harry to somewhat see the shapes of objects which the magic didn't seem inclined to force itself through.

The room was rather large, and it was filled with a bunch of boxes. Harry even noticed a woman's shape, standing with a box in hand. Martha was chubbier than Harry had imagined her. Interesting. The blue magic continued dancing around the room, spreading in a way that Harry could almost say felt curious. It was as if it was searching for something. Suddenly, however, the magic snapped back to Tom.

Harry suppressed a sigh of disappointment. Maybe Tom could repeat that?

"Okay, Harry, come over here and try on this shirt," Martha said.

Tom huffed and let go of Harry. He marched forward and collected the shirt that Martha had been offering, turning back and handing it to Harry. Harry murmured a thank you as he pulled it on over his borrowed shirt. Meanwhile, Martha was being nasty to Tom again.

"Why did you do that, Tom? Harry's perfectly capable of getting it himself!" Martha sounded a little irritated.

"I thought it would be faster for me to get it instead of having Harry trip over half the boxes in here getting to you!" Tom sounded a little mad. Oh dear.

"Just because he's blind doesn't mean that he can get everything easy in life, Tom," Martha said, sounding as if she fancied herself great and knowledgeable.

"Doesn't mean you have to make things hard on purpose!" Tom said, almost shouting. Tom stomped in front of Harry, looking at him carefully. After a few seconds, Tom shook his head. "Take that off. It looks even worse than the shirt I gave you."

Harry giggled a little bit, but he complied. He pulled the shirt off and handed it to Tom. Tom turned back to Martha.

"I'm going to pick out his clothes."

Harry watched Tom, bemused. That was rather commanding of Tom. Apparently, Martha thought similarly.

"Boy, I work here. I will give him his clothes."

"Your taste is gross." Harry found himself giggling again. Tom didn't seem like the kind of person to actually use the word 'gross.'

"Boy…"

"Martha…"

"You have five seconds to cut that impudent tone, boy."

"You have five seconds to let me save Harry from being dressed like a girl."

Tom and Martha continued to argue. Harry found that a little funny. Tom was at least five times younger than Martha! But they were both really very distracted.

Harry decided that he would pick his own clothes, both of them be damned.

Okay, maybe Tom be damned a little bit less. He was his friend after all. Oh, wait. Sorry mom, I forgot about not saying bad words like that.

Harry felt around with his foot for the nearest box. Hitting it lightly with the tip of his foot, he carefully felt down for it and stuck his hand inside. Feeling a rather scratchy cloth, Harry withdrew his hand. He moved over a little bit to another box. When he put his hand inside, he met a very nice, soft kind of material. Finding that a good omen, he pulled out the first article of clothing and pulled it on.

A coat! It was a little bit large, but that was alright. Harry was planning to grow taller, anyway. He pulled it off and hung it on his arm.

In this manner, Harry finished searching through several boxes by the time that Martha and Tom noticed that he wasn't just waiting for them to finish their silly argument.

Harry noted that when Tom was truly blindsided, his facial expression greatly resembled that of a house elf. Who knew that Tom could open his eyes so wide? Once again, Harry found himself stifling a giggle.

"Harry," Martha said reprimandingly, "what are you doing?"

"Getting clothes," Harry replied, snickering. "I found a coat and two shirts!"

Harry lifted the clothes he had hung on his arm and proudly displayed them in Tom's direction. "What do you think, Tom?"

Tom just stared at Harry for a few seconds. Then, he said, as if nothing was wrong, "I like the green one."

Tom walked over to Harry and grabbed one of the shirts, looking over it carefully. Harry noticed that Tom himself was trying to hold back a giggle. Or perhaps a cackle. Harry wasn't really sure about Tom's laughing habits yet. He wouldn't put it past him to cackle.

"What is it?" Harry asked, a little annoyed. "Is it...girly?"

Tom stared at him, face impassive, before calmly saying, "it's pink with horses on it." Harry wasn't fooled. Tom's lips were twitching.

"Not that one, then," Harry said, turning back to the box he had been rifling through. "Help me find some more."

As Tom walked over to help Harry search, Martha sighed. "Harry, you can have three shirts, two pairs of trousers, one pair of boots and one pair of trainers, and three pairs of socks and underwear."

With that, Harry listened to Martha leave the room. Harry turned to Tom excitedly. "You won the argument, then?"

Tom lifted his chin a little higher before replying, "of course I won. Superior intelligence always wins."

"But Martha's older?" Harry questioned, pulling on a shirt that felt soft, if rather itchy. "How does this look?"

"Not good. Take it off," Tom instructed, before adopting a thoughtful look as he picked through a box of either gloves or socks; Harry couldn't tell. "Not all people are created equal," Tom finally said.

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked. "I was always told to listen to people older than me."

Tom looked faintly irritated. "You listen to people too much, Harry."

"Well, was I just supposed to ignore everyone?"

"Of course not," Tom said. "But not everything they tell you is right. But back to what I was saying before." Tom thrust another shirt into Harry's arms. "Try that one on; I think it would look good."

"Okay," Harry said, absently pulling it on. "How is it?"

"Passable," Tom decided after looking at Harry carefully. "Green, blue, and black are definitely your colors. Maybe grey."

"Okay," Harry said, pulling it off and hanging it on his arm. "So?"

"Well," Tom said, "we have magic."

"Yeah, so?" Harry said. "I was always told that muggles weren't any less, though."

"That makes no sense!" Tom insisted. "We have the ability to make magic happen; to break the laws of the universe! You told me all the things we can do. What can muggles to do compare? We are obviously better somehow if we have this magic that they do not."

"We're all people…" Harry said uncomfortably.

"Better people. You know how we talk better than the other kids our age here?"

"Huh?" Harry said. "What do you mean?"

"Haven't you noticed that everyone you really talked to was older than you? Alyssa was three years older. Harry," Tom said, stepping closer. "We're smarter. We're better!"

Harry watched uneasily as Tom's magic began swirling around him again, blue threads glinting. He nervously ran his hands along the weave of the coat on his arm. Tom noticed that, face morphing from joy to one of suspicion.

"Why are you nervous?" Tom asked.

"I'm not!" Harry quickly defended.

"Liar," Tom said. "Tell me."

"I'm not lying!" Harry denied. Tom's face grew a little angry. "_Tell me._"

Something was different. As Tom said that, part of the whirling threads stripped away from the mass storming around Tom, and _went through Harry._ It felt a little cold. And Harry was suddenly filled with the strong, unexplainable, untamable urge to tell Tom everything.

"Stop that!" Harry cried, stepping back. He tripped over a box behind him, falling painfully onto a another box.

The storm of magic slowed a little, and the threads retreated.

"Stop what?" Tom was watching Harry with an unexplainable look on his face.

"You- you just- you just!" Harry sputtered.

"What? What is it?" Tom was looking a little bit afraid now.

Harry suddenly remembered that Tom was newer to the whole magic thing than Harry was himself. He had to tell Tom. Tom probably did it on accident. He would understand. Tom was his friend.

"Y-your magic, Tom. You were talking about being better and it started _moving._ Moving fast! And swirling around you in a circle! And then when you kept telling me to tell you, some of your magic hit me in the head and I swear it made me feel something weird."

"Feel what?" Tom asked hungrily.

"I felt like I had to tell you everything. And it was really scary and really weird and I wasn't sure if you did it on purpose or not but I didn't like it and please tell me that you didn't, you didn't do it on purpose!" Harry rushed out in a single breath.

"I...think I've done it before," Tom said really quickly. "But this time was an accident, I swear!"

"Really?" Harry asked, watching Tom's face. But Tom looked sincere.

"Really."

"Wow…" Harry said. "You actually did real magic, then!"

Tom's face lit up. "I did? This was magic?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I think so."

"Do...do you think I might be able to replicate it?" Tom asked. "Do it on command. You said that we can do accidental magic but...is it possible to control it?"

"I don't know," Harry said, thinking. "But you were really happy when your magic started moving. And I guess you really wanted to know what I was nervous about."

"So feeling something strongly can help you do magic?" Tom asked.

"Maybe. But that just made your magic swirl."

"So it was wanting to know that made it happen?"

"Probably," Harry admitted.

"That makes it easy. I'll try it!" Tom grabbed one of the shirts Harry had chosen for himself. He put it on top of a box and started staring at it.

He kept staring.

Harry waited for a few minutes, but no matter how much Tom scrunched up his face, nothing happened. His magic was back to normal.

"Let me try?" Harry asked. He walked over to the box and felt around for the shirt. Keeping one hand on it, he began to think really hard about making it fly.

Fly! Fly! No matter how hard Harry yelled it inside his head, nothing really happened.

"Darn it," Harry said. "I was so sure it would work."

"Me too," Tom said, turning around to look at another box. He took a moment to shoot a glare at the shirt.

Harry froze as Tom's magic swept out in patterns from under his skin, threads wild and lashing, until they hit the shirt. He saw as the lines laid themselves along the shirt, and he saw how the threads started threading themselves together at a furious pace. In the blink of an eye, the threads snapped back to Tom's form, and Harry thought that he could, for a second, feel some heat on the front of his knees.

"What was that?" Harry whispered. "Tom...your magic…"

Tom was turning toward him. His face was alight with discovery.

"Harry, I think I know how to do magic."

Harry stared back at him, grinning widely, before he suddenly panicked.

"Wait...my shirt!"

* * *

><p><em>I will start listing the music I listen to as I write each chapter (in the event that I do). They're not meant to really say anything; they may simply give you a better idea of my mood.<em>

_I am looking for a beta reader; an experienced one, preferably. I am fairly good with grammar and syntax, but someone who wouldn't mind checking it over and perhaps telling me when something is confusing would be very beneficial._

_I thought it would be prudent to mention that I already have an idea for an ending. As such, I am now 500% more likely to actually finish this._

_Additionally, I would like to chat with some of my readers to get their opinions on it so far. If you wouldn't mind doing that, drop me a review saying so and I'll reply over PM!Also, out of curiosity, does my writing seem anything like someone who is writing English as a second language? I'm curious, as I've been told that occasionally my sentence structure can get rather eccentric._

_Apologies for such long ending notes; I had a lot to say. _


	5. Harry Gains a Crup

_Written while listening to Les amours dévouées - Cœur de Pirate._

**March 30, 1933**

After a few months, Harry had somewhat settled into life at the orphanage. He found that if he excused Alyssa for perhaps having too much interest in gossip, she was rather tolerable to talk to. He hesitantly labeled her under the category of 'friend,' something that he made sure Tom didn't hear about. Tom could be funny about some things.

Tom was a little upset that Harry was now included in the tormenting by a gang of mostly older kids, led by a rather large boy named Billy Stubbs, who always seemed to have a nasty cough. Tom often commented that it was a pity he had a chronic cold, because the coughs sounded much like Billy was choking. Harry thought that Tom was a little bit weird about that, but he had to agree.

The gang was positively brutal. So mean! Harry didn't understand it. He didn't really take the warning he had received from John and his friend (which he later found out was called Robert) seriously. But he honestly should have. He would have been better prepared.

Harry found out with dismay that it was possible to have bruises on top of bruises.

Tom was always really fierce when they were attacked. Despite being a lot smaller than everyone (except Harry), he did a lot of damage. Harry always came out of the fights feeling a little vindicated; they weren't the only ones sporting injuries of some sort. Of course, the injuries they managed to land on the older boys were minimal, but it gave a certain satisfaction anyway.

What really made it bearable was the knowledge that they were slowly, ever so slowly, mastering their magic.

With Harry's special sight (Harry seriously needed to think of a cool name for it) they had a very large advantage. Harry was a little jealous when Tom seemed to figure out how to control his magic faster. Of course, Tom's control wasn't perfect, and something only happened half the time, but that was still a lot more than Harry could manage. When Harry tried really hard, he could make something happen maybe one time out of five.

Tom reassured him that it was only natural that _he_ get it faster. Harry always responded with a pillow to Tom's face.

But still, it was progress. Tom had a plan that when they could control their magic reliably, they would be able to win more fights (as long as they used it carefully, Harry reluctantly agreed). Tom spent a whole evening muttering under his breath as he figured out a plan of attack. Harry was really irritated because Tom's mutters weren't clear enough for him to hear properly, but eventually, with enough pestering, he managed to make Tom disclose the plan.

When the others tried to punch them, they would slowly and covertly slow their fists until they made less damage. Harry proposed that they could also try speeding themselves up somehow. Harry didn't really know everything that magic could do because most of the things that he remembered were cleaning charms that his mum had employed in the kitchen, but he hypothesized that if it was magic, surely anything was possible? Tom agreed with him, and that was that.

Despite their rather grandiose plans and devout training...there was still the issue of the _magic not working properly._

Today, Tom was more frustrated than usual.

"This is ridiculous," Tom huffed, sitting with his back against the headboard of the bed that they still shared. One day, Harry's cot had been simply gone, but Tom had said that he couldn't find a replacement yet. Harry didn't mind sharing, though. It was really cold at night, and this way, they had twice as many blankets.

"It's not," Harry insisted. "Nobody I ever heard of does magic without wands except for kids like us, and it's called accidental magic for a reason." He was sitting on the floor by Tom, leaning with his head under the window. The chill coming from the top of the window was a little irritating, but the weak sunlight coming through the glass that Tom painstakingly cleaned every week was worth it.

They sat quietly together, taking a break from their attempts at magic. Harry enjoyed the warm feeling of the sun on his hair, reminded of happier times and a warm house and his family. Tom seemed to be drifting off in thought, though, and after an undefinable period of time, he shifted a little and spoke.

"I...I feel like I'm different, Harry," Tom said, staring at the ceiling. "You know?"

"No, I don't know. Why?" Harry asked, playing with an old thread of his shirt, knotting it and pulling it apart again and again.

"Just a feeling," Tom confessed. "I just...I always thought I was different from everyone."

Harry scrutinized Tom. He was looking so absently at the ceiling that Harry had a feeling that Tom was saying more truth than he normally would.

"You are different from everyone, though," Harry said. What exactly was Tom talking about? He was a wizard, everyone he knew before Harry was a Muggle. Of course he was different.

"I...meant more different."

Harry looked at Tom. "I haven't the foggiest idea of what you're talking about."

Tom sighed, shooting Harry a look. "Forget I said anything."

"No!" Harry said. "Tell me. I promise I'll listen."

Tom sat in silence for a few minutes as Harry endeavoured to turn his whole thread into an unbroken string of knots. It was almost a success! As Harry finished tying the last knot in a perfect row of knots, Tom cleared his throat. Then, finally, Tom spoke again.

"I always thought I was different. I just don't understand some things."

"What things?" Harry asked. Tom was being unusually reticent today.

"Emotions," Tom said. "They don't make sense."

Harry gave Tom a look. "What do you mean? Of course they make sense. You're happy, you're happy. You're sad, that means you're sad."

"That's a horrible explanation," Tom said, just a bit indignantly. He groaned and slid down his headboard, proper posture forgotten. Harry smiled a little. He couldn't figure out why Tom constantly insisted on being so proper. He would think Tom fancied himself an uppity pureblood if not for the fact that Tom had been like that from the first moment Harry met him.

"I know," Harry said cheerily. "I just don't understand why you're saying they don't make sense."

"I just…" Tom said, mumbling, "don't feel some of them."

"Nonsense!" Harry said. "Everyone feels emotions, right?"

"I don't," Tom said. "At least, I don't think so. Or maybe not as strong?"

Harry was silent for a few seconds. "Wait...what?"

"I'm serious." Tom was looking pointedly away from Harry.

Harry suddenly realized that it was one of the few times where Tom was actually telling him something very secret and true about himself. Tom was always reserved, but here he was coming right out and telling Harry something like this! Harry felt a little happy inside. That meant that Tom was trusting him! Friends tell each other secrets.

Harry suddenly flashed back to the playdates his parents had arranged for him. Nobody had ever really shared secrets like this before. Harry suddenly felt really determined to do something. He wasn't sure what, but he would do something friend-like.

"Then," Harry said, running his finger along his thread proudly, "I'll help you feel some. I'll show you what they're like! Super strong emotions!" Harry glanced at Tom, grinning.

Tom raised his eyebrows. "Really."

"Yeah!" Harry said. "It's not that hard, I think."

"If you say so," Tom said.

"Of course. You'll understand them in no time."

"Want to bet?"

"Of course! I'll win."

"Alright. If I win," Tom said, tapping his chin with a long finger, "you have to give me your monthly allowance."

"Aw, Tom, that's harsh!" Harry complained. "But fine. But if I win, then you have to give me yours!"

"Deal," Tom said, reaching out a hand. Harry took it, shaking it firmly. "Deal."

With that, the two boys returned to their thoughts and enjoying the weak sunlight.

* * *

><p><strong>April 11, 1933<strong>

"Can you feel the magic? It's right here," Harry said, pointing. Tom gave him an exasperated look.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to be feeling."

"Magic?" Harry said unconfidently. "It's magic. It has to feel like something, right?"

"Not true," Tom said. "Yes, magic is definitely a force of some kind, but that doesn't mean it's something you can touch and feel just like that!"

Harry scowled. "I just have a feeling you're supposed to feel something."

"Fine," Tom said, shooting Harry a glare without any of the malice that he usually bestowed on the other orphans. Tom huffed a little, sticking his hand out. Harry smiled encouragingly, grabbing it and slowly moving it toward a thick thread of Tom's magic that seemed to almost pulse as if alive. Tom's hand grew closer, closer, and closer...and nothing.

Tom sighed. Harry frowned. "I swear, you should feel something."

"I don't understand why you're so insistent on this, Harry," Tom complained. "Can't we just read?"

"No," Harry said firmly. "We'll read after we do this a few more times, okay?"

Tom sighed again, but kept his hand out. Harry had been annoying Tom about feeling magic for over a week now. Harry knew he was really pushing Tom's patience with this, but he had some strong, itchy feeling inside him that pushed him to try over and over again. It was a little nagging thought in the back of his mind that kept telling him to try and try, because something was supposed to happen. Harry wasn't sure what exactly, but he gave in to his suspicious suspicions (wasn't that an odd thought?).

Harry pulled Tom's hand back a little again, letting it hang in the air for a little while. Then, Harry slowly began drawing Tom's hand closer to that thick blue _rope_ of magic that, for some strange reason, had a tendency to detach from Tom's body around his left hand and wave around to an invisible breeze, or perhaps some tune that nobody could hear. He had to feel something! Suddenly, Harry became highly irritated. Tom should feel something, damn it! As Harry brought Tom's hand as close as he could bring it to the magic one more time, he saw a thin tendril of his dark green magic snake out from his body toward Tom. Harry stared as that thin tendril slipped into Tom's body of magic, curling around. He couldn't think of a reason for it to do that, especially without his conscious consent or direction.

"Tom?" Harry asked, holding Tom's hand in place. "Tom? Are you feeling something?"

"I'm not sure," Tom said slowly before stiffly inclining his head up until he was staring at the ceiling, body tense. "What did you just do do?" His voice sounded a little more panicked now.

Harry chuckled uncertainly, staring wide-eyed at his magic. "Uh...I don't really know."

"Harry," Tom said, eyes wide. "I think I did feel something. What just happened?"

"Uh…" Harry started, "my magic went into you?" Harry dropped Tom's hand and poked Tom's chest right where the green tendril of his magic went into it. Tom jerked back. Harry watched curiously as his magic continued to unspool out of his body, reluctant to break the connection.

"What do you mean?" Tom asked, voice high-pitched. He looked down at himself before looking at Harry.

"A little bit of my magic just...decided to go into you?" Harry said. "I don't know what it's doing."

"Well," Tom said, "that's really weird."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Harry said. "Wait a second...it's moving!"

Tom grabbed onto Harry's arm. "How is it moving?" he demanded harshly. "Get it out!"

"I don't know how!" Harry cried, yanking his arm out of Tom's grip. "It's just coiling itself inside you?"

Harry and Tom stood for a few moments, staring at each other. Tom's face was horrified. Harry had to bite down the urge to let loose an inappropriate snicker.

"You know…" Tom said, expression turning slightly pensive, "it feels warm. Whatever you're doing."

"Really?" Harry asked. "I wonder what my magic is doing. I didn't try to make it do anything, I swear."

"I guess we wait?" Tom supplied, walking over to their bed and throwing himself on it.

"Yeah," Harry said, following him.

* * *

><p>Tom wasn't sure how to describe this odd feeling in his chest. It felt warm, but at the same time, it felt a little cold. But that cold was receding, thankfully. He tried to feel irritated at Harry for somehow performing some weird magic on him, but he knew that Harry had been having trouble even getting his magic to do things voluntarily. The chances that Harry's magic would do something so suspicious without his knowledge were little.<p>

But what could it be? Numerous ideas flitted through Tom's head. None of them seemed particularly likely. He sighed, folding his arms under his head, turning himself to watch Harry. Harry was staring at his chest, probably observing the magic.

Tom thought that Harry's talent was a little invasive, if useful. Just the thought that Harry could almost see inside someone (even if he could only see magic) seemed a bit formidable. But Tom was used to the idea now. He had to admit that Harry's definite answers on whether he had just performed magic or not were helpful. And anyway, he guessed that it would be terrible to be blind without any advantages.

Although Harry's little skill wasn't very helpful around the orphanage.

There simply wasn't enough magic around for him to see anything but Tom. A part of Tom felt immensely pleased that Harry could only see him, not everyone else. Harry was his best friend, after all. But then Tom tried to beat it down because he had a feeling that Harry wouldn't appreciate that thought too much.

His lack of normal sight made Harry such a target, though. Tom wasn't sure that Harry had realized exactly how many attacks Tom had had to deflect from him in their daily brawls with Billy's gang. Harry fought pretty well by sound alone, but he had a tendency to forget about things going on behind him. Tom always had to cover for him by standing back to back.

Harry's presence had increased the frequency of the attacks. Tom didn't want to just blame it on one reason, but that was the only thing he could think of. Before Harry arrived, he would get beat up maybe three times a week. Once Harry arrived, it was a daily occurrence.

Tom didn't see the logic in that. To attack more often when the amount of victims who fight back was doubled? Maybe they were seen as a challenge. Or maybe they just wanted to hurt the freaks.

Harry hadn't noticed, but he was already dubbed a fellow "freak." Tom was filled with irrational surges of fury when he heard the other children whispering it as they walked by. Harry had a tendency to focus on one thing to the exclusion of his surroundings. Although the deal was certainly sweetened a little bit when the focus of Harry's exclusive attention was Tom, as it was more often than not.

Ah, the daily struggles of two magical orphans, one with something of a disability.

Tom was snapped out of his thoughts when the faint warmth, which had been growing steadily stronger as he reminisced, suddenly flared to a burning heat. It felt like he was being burned suddenly from the inside out. The blazing heat began to spread from his chest, going to his neck, to his arms, to his legs...Tom felt himself going a little bit faint from the intense discomfort. Tom thought he felt Harry grab onto his arms. He noted absently that he was jerking violently.

As suddenly as it had began, the burning receded after it reached his fingertips. All that was left was a curious coolness, as if the inside of his body had been lightly brushed with ice before it could be properly felt. Harry was saying something. Tom brought himself out of his mind with force.

"What?" Tom slurred. A part of him felt a little horrified with how..._not-together_ he sounded.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, sounding terrified. "You were jerking around…"

"I think so," Tom said, lifting an arm to his forehead. "I just feel…wait."

"What is it?" Harry looked confused.

"Can you taste it? It smells like winter."

"What?" Harry gave Tom such a baffled look that Tom had to suppress the urge to make fun of him for it.

"Exactly what I said, dummy." Tom inhaled through his mouth, then his nose. It was true. It seemed like the room was laced with a faint perfume of a biting, yet refreshing scent that just smelled like _winter_ to Tom.

Tom sat up carefully. As he did that, he tensed. The smell of winter was stronger. Or the taste. He wasn't sure. Somehow, the two senses seemed to blur together more than usual.

Cautiously, Tom leaned forward. And more forward. Until he was staring right into Harry's eyes.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked nervously.

Tom carefully inhaled through his mouth. Winter. Harry was the source, he was sure of it.

"It's you," Tom said, surprised. "You smell like winter. You taste like it too."

"What do you mean? Taste? Smell?"

"That's just what it feels like," Tom said. It was glorious. The smell was delightful and fresh and it evoked memories of days where he had sat contentedly under a tree plodding through a book definitely too difficult from him as an icy wind bit at his skin.

"Well," Harry said, "I think you need to know something."

"What is it?" Tom asked, eyes slipping shut as he continued enjoying the winter scent.

"My magic did something. It looked almost like there was a flower inside you? And then my magic was looping around it and then suddenly the flower-thingy burst open and then you started shaking and now you're talking about smelling winter. You do realize it's still kinda-winter right now?" Harry was staring at Tom suspiciously.

Tom stared back. Harry's magic had opened something in him? And now he could smell winter from Harry? Maybe it was a hidden talent?

"That's weird," Tom said. "Maybe I suddenly gained a cool talent too!"

Harry laughed a little bit. "That would be cool. So you say I smell like winter? Do you smell something weird from yourself?"

Tom raised his eyebrows. He hadn't thought of that. So, he pulled his arm to his nose and breathed in very deeply. After a few seconds contemplation, he thought he could sense something. There! Woven amongst the tendrils of winter, he could smell something salty. If he could give it a name, he would say it was the smell of the sea.

"I think I smell the sea," Tom said, deliberating.

"Oh, that's funny!" Harry suddenly exclaimed. "I always thought that your magic looked sorta like water with the blueness and the little bits of green in it."

"Do you think...that I can smell magic now?" Tom asked.

Harry looked at him with a blank face for a few seconds before doubling over, snickering. "That's so ridiculous!" Harry stuttered between laughs.

Tom frowned at Harry. "Thanks a lot. I thought I gained a cool skill and now you're laughing at me!"

"Sorry," Harry apologized, "but seriously. Smelling magic. Or tasting it. Can't you see how funny that is?"

Tom thought about it for a moment. When he thought about it, then yes, it might have been just a little funny. Only a little.

"Oh!" Harry said, straightening with a jump. "You can be my crup!"

"What?" Tom asked. It sounded like another one of those things that Harry knew from the wizarding world that he was woefully ignorant of.

"Crups are like dogs!" Harry said cheerfully. "We can pretend you're a crup and then I can pretend to be the owner!"

Tom looked at Harry with disdain. "Why would I want to pretend to be a dog?"

"Because it's fun!" Harry said. "Don't you ever pretend to be something you're not?"

"Not really," Tom said. "I'm fine being me."

"But _Tom!_" Harry said. "Come on! Play with me. Just for a little bit! Then you can read whatever book you want and I won't complain that it's boring and I won't ask you to slow down and I'll stop asking what those fancy long words mean-"

Tom covered Harry's mouth with his hand and sighed. "Okay. Just once, though."

Harry beamed under his hand, jumping away and spinning. "Yes!"

"Just once!" Tom reminded, mouth slipping into a smile almost without his notice.

* * *

><p><em>Hello everyone! I'm terribly sorry for taking so long to get this one out. To be honest, it's been mostly complete for over a week and a half, but I found a really long 400k fic and then three days later I opened another fic that was 700k... At least I read extremely fast?<em>

_Hopefully the next one won't take as long to come out! I will try to post them on a weekly basis..._

_As always, reviews are welcome, especially if you notice grammatical errors!_


	6. The Birthday Rules

_Written while listening to Fitz and the Tantrums- Fools Gold._

**July 31, 1933**

"Tom! Please!"

Tom sighed. It seemed that today was not his lucky day. Of course, it wasn't really his day. It was Harry's birthday, and Harry was turning into a right menace.

From the very morning, Harry had been pestering him about "birthday rights." Somewhere, Harry had come into the idea that on one's birthday, they were supposed to get everything they wanted. Tom tried to educate Harry about how it was utterly unrealistic to get everything one wanted, even if for a day, but Harry resolutely stated that it was birthday law.

Tom suspected that he was going to have to find a way to dispose of Alyssa Harkins before she put even more inane ideas into Harry's head.

This led Tom into his present situation. It was a fine morning, surprisingly cool for midsummer, and Harry had been pestering him about going out and playing all day. The only other alternative that Tom managed to wheedle out was perhaps a few hours of reading. But Tom had forgotten to stipulate who got to choose the reading material.

So, Tom was stuck with the choice between reading _The Cat Who Went to Heaven_, and _Emil and the Detectives._

Both were children's books.

Tom briefly lamented Harry's young age. For surely, if Harry were Tom's old age - a few months was _definitely_ a long time - he would not be insisting on reading children's books. Obviously.

A little nagging part of Tom's mind insisted that he was wrong, but Tom, quite used to pushing down _some_ part of his mind at one point or another, stifled it very quickly.

"But why?" Tom whined. "They're not even that interesting."

Harry gave him a shifty look. "How do you know they're not interesting if you've never read them, huh?"

Tom opened his mouth, but he failed to come up with a suitable lie fast enough. Harry's eyes glimmered with satisfaction as he tackled Tom off the bed and onto the floor.

"I'm right!" Harry cheered, lifting his upper body on his elbows, which happened to be digging into Tom's kidneys.

"Get off!" Tom screeched, internally wincing at the volume. Alyssa was no doubt going to investigate, and Tom would probably be forced into suffering the dubious pleasure of her presence. Harry persisted in keeping relatively amicable relations with her. While Tom could appreciate the value of having one of the major gossips in the orphanage on their side, it didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

"No!" Harry said. "Not until you agree to read one of them to me. And to Alyssa, if she comes in after hearing that scream of yours." Harry grinned evilly.

"Fine," Tom sniffed. "I'll read you a blasted baby book. For babies."

"I'd believe that," Harry said, still grinning, "if I didn't see you smile every time you read me a 'baby book'. Admit it. You like them."

"Never!" Tom said, trying to shove Harry off of him. Harry simply dug in his elbows further. Tom gave his rather impressive glare of death towards Harry, but his eyes didn't stop twinkling from his pure evilness in the slightest. Oh well. Tom would eventually perfect that.

"Never what?" a voice called from beyond Harry. Tom scowled. "If I admit I like them, will you make her leave?"

Harry glanced behind him. "Oh, hey Alyssa."

"Hey, Harry," Alyssa said. "Why is Tom on the floor and glaring at you as if he's trying to make your head explode with the force of his mind?"

"Oh," Harry said, leaning on his elbows a little more with a wicked smirk, "he just doesn't want to follow the birthday rules." Tom narrowed his eyes. So it was her, after all, who had put that idea into Harry's head.

Alyssa gasped loudly. "Oh my! That must be fixed immediately!"

"Exactly," Harry said smugly.

Harry and Alyssa had struck up an odd friendship that seemed to revolve mostly around gossip and tormenting Tom. Never mind that Alyssa was three years older and used to be terrified of Tom, and that she was a girl. Everyone knew that boys and girls didn't associate with each other! But Harry liked being himself without a care for how much Tom was irritated by his association with that…_Muggle._

Tom had been forced to admit to himself on numerous occasions that while he thought he himself was different from everyone, Harry was no less different. It must be a wizard trait.

"What shall we do?" Alyssa said. "Although it looks like you have everything under control."

"I do," Harry said proudly. "He was just about to admit to me that he..._likes 'baby books'_," Harry admitted with a faux whisper.

"Oh, really?" Alyssa said. "Do continue."

Tom watched angrily as she perched on their bed, smiling happily. He furrowed his brows a little bit. Maybe he could get his magic to unobtrusively do something evil to her without breaking that "Statue" of Secrecy that Harry was always going on about.

As Tom felt the taste of the sea flood his senses, it was brutally knocked away as Harry backhanded him across the face.

"Harry!" Tom whined, knowing that he deserved it.

"Tom!" Harry called back mockingly. "Come on. Just say it. Then you can read me the first ten pages and then we'll go to pester Mrs. Cole to let us go out into the city for my birthday."

Oh. That was a new addition to the plan. Tom liked going out into the city. For one, he was assigned to watch Harry, something that went without saying, but allowed them a modicum of independence. As Harry was expected to be rather slow, being the "poor little blind child," they were the youngest children to be allowed freedom of movement. Not that Martha was particularly good at chaperoning anyway.

Additionally, venturing into the city allowed them to update their collection of books, and allowed Tom some opportunities to engage in one of his favorite activities...thievery. He thought he was particularly successful, as Harry's attention was almost constantly on him and yet Harry hadn't noticed a single of his steals yet. He wondered where exactly Harry thought all of the new clothing, books, and sweets were coming from…

"Fine," Tom said. "I like baby books. Now get off me."

Harry smiled winningly at Tom, hopping off and offering Tom a hand. Tom patted at his kidneys, sighing gratefully when it seemed like he was mostly intact. He then grabbed on to Harry's arm, pulling himself up. He was tempted to pull Harry back down on the floor with him, but that was surely inadvisable after finally compromising with Harry.

"Alright!" Harry said, throwing himself with perfect aim onto the bed behind him. To Tom's smug amusement, Harry had forgotten about Alyssa's presence.

"Ow!" Alyssa screeched. "Harry!"

"Sorry!" Harry said, sounding completely _not_ sorry at all. Tom snorted. Maybe he hadn't forgotten about her.

"Start reading, crup!" Harry said imperiously, pointing a finger at Tom while inhaling deep enough to swell his chest.

Tom forgot all of his reservations in breaking their tentative truce with that little jab, throwing himself at Harry and tickling him madly. Alyssa growled from underneath them, trying to wiggle out from underneath the wriggling pile of shrieking boys.

A few minutes later, a huffy Alyssa, a panting Harry, and a smug Tom finally settled around the bed, where Tom began reading _Emil and the Detectives_ with his usual dramatic flair.

* * *

><p>Harry sighed happily. This was certainly a very hilarious birthday. Tom's facial expressions were absolutely priceless, and the way that Tom's magic practically <em>hummed<em> its irritation and mirrored Tom's no-doubt devious thoughts was a never-ending source of amusement for Harry. He wondered when Tom would catch on to how well Harry could read him.

Tom still thought that Harry was oblivious about his little habits out in the city. Harry didn't entirely approve, but he did have to admit that Tom's stash of candy was definitely a plus that they wouldn't be able to afford otherwise. Harry had a fondness for nougat and toffee. In fact, as time went on and he continued to joy Tom's illegally obtained goods, he began to think that if the shop owner was so dense that he didn't notice Tom's constant thievery, then he deserved to get stolen from. Tom was so glaringly obvious whenever he made a steal that Harry was considering actually informing Tom about his transparency, lest he be caught. That would put a stop to Tom's endless supply of goodies.

But sacrificing his _candy!_ Not going to happen.

But that was for later. Maybe he could inform Tom today.

Right now, he was just enjoying the sound of Tom's voice reading out loud that funny book about a child detective, of all things, with at least five different voices and tones. Tom might prefer books with actual information, but he was very good at reading what he called 'baby books.' Harry was unsure why exactly Tom thought that only children read books for fun, as he was pretty sure that the laughter Martha occasionally barked out in the playroom, flipping pages, wasn't something that was caused by an encyclopedia, of all things. But he would fight with Tom about it later.

Right now, he was in heaven.

Alyssa was constantly sighing happily to his left. Harry couldn't even find it in himself to poke her in the side with his conveniently located elbow.

Just as Harry was slipping into a pleasant meditative doze that always left him able to recall everything he heard word for word, Tom stopped with a cheery "done!"

"Alyssa, check to make sure he's not lying. That he actually read ten pages."

Tom could be a sneaky bugger.

"Okay," Alyssa said, leaning over Harry. "Yeah, he did read ten pages. No brodie."

"Did you understand the meaning of the story?" Tom asked in a scholarly voice. Harry was pretty sure that he had copied it from Alyssa that one time she was ranting about her teacher being pure evil. No doubt Tom took it as inspiration.

"What meaning?" Harry sighed. "You only read ten pages!"

"Don't take candy from strangers, because then they'll have drugs inside it that will make you sleep and then they will kidnap you and Mrs. Cole will throw a party."

Harry shot a glare at Tom. "Whatever. Let's go and ask Mrs. Cole if we can go outside!"

"Can I come with you? Alyssa said hopefully.

Harry watched as Tom sneered and spitefully said, "no way!"

Possessive twit, Harry thought fondly.

"But Tom!" Harry whined. This would be fun. He bet himself that he could get Tom to agree to bring Alyssa along in three minutes flat. He absently started counting down from...what was it? 180? It was a good thing that they had learned to count a few weeks back from a neutral ten-year old who had lost his allowance in a bet. Harry had to admit that it was terribly useful.

"What?" Tom asked snappishly.

"It's my birthday…"

"Birthday rules!" Alyssa called joyfully.

"But that's only if Harry really wants you to come," Tom said, looking at Harry with a look that almost seemed to plead with him.

"Harry?" Alyssa asked. Harry jumped a little bit when Alyssa laid her hand on his arm. He wasn't expecting that.

"I want Alyssa to come," Harry said firmly. Tom gave him a look of despair, his magic visibly drooping.

"I win!" Alyssa said. Tom sighed and nodded.

Victory, Harry cheered. That was only at 124! Now if only he could master subtraction…

* * *

><p>Tom scanned the street warily, gripping onto Harry's arm tightly. Those automobiles moved with very little regard for pedestrians. The air was muggy and humid, filled with the exhaust fumes of countless cars. The cool summer morning was long gone, disappearing the second they left the more residential part of London. The walk had been rather long, but Tom rather appreciated the distance from the shopping district. They lived just far enough away to breathe relatively easily. It wouldn't do for them to damage their health with dirty air.<p>

A few cars shot by, and Tom could see a lull in the traffic. Knowing that they weren't going to get much of a chance to cross the road for the next few minutes if they didn't take this one, Tom yanked on Harry's arm.

"Harry, now!" Tom said urgently, jumping into the street. Glancing warily back and forth, Tom deemed it safe to cross. Harry followed him quietly, eyes focused on Tom's form. Behind him trailed Alyssa, who had been looking into the window of a shop that sold ugly-looking dolls in dresses that looked more like doilies than respectable fabric. Tom couldn't quite fathom where the attraction in those ruffle-covered monstrosities lay, but he was fine with them distracting Alyssa. Unfortunately, she had heard Tom's command to Harry and was consequently trailing them.

Tom really wished that he could throw her off. But he wasn't making much of a serious attempt at it. Not today. While he was a little bit cynical, he did want to make Harry's birthday very happy. It was his first birthday at the orphanage, after all.

They finished crossing the road, Harry tripping a little on a loose cobblestone. Tom checked him carefully, but he looked fine. That was good; an injured leg would be a major drag to their expedition.

"So where are we now?" asked Harry, smiling brightly.

"Around that candy store you like so much," Tom said, looking at the store in question. It was brightly decorated, the small windows filled with boxes of candy of all kinds. Just from a quick glance, Tom could see that Harry's favorites were in stock. Brilliant.

"Candy?" Alyssa said. "Oh, are you going to buy some?"

Harry looked at her sadly. "No, we need to save up our allowances. Tom used it all last time."

"Oh," Alyssa said, looking pensive. "Well, in that case, maybe I'll buy you some for your birthday!"

If Tom hadn't been watching very carefully, he wouldn't have noticed that tiny twitch of Harry's mouth. For a second, there had been a little pleased smirk on Harry's face.

Oh, clever, Tom lauded Harry mentally. If Tom stole some candy now, they would have twice the haul that Tom usually got. He hoped Harry wouldn't ask where he would get the extra candy, as he had supposedly run out of money.

Well, it wasn't as if Harry had made a point of asking about that before.

They moved into the store, Harry sniffing deeply while Alyssa began darting around excitedly, looking at all the displays. There weren't many people in the store. It was strange, Tom thought. It was a weekend, and this was the only candy store for a rather sizeable area. Maybe it had something to do with the economy. Tom was sure that he had heard something about that in conjunction with an impressively creative string of curses from Martha last week. He made a note to investigate.

Tom led Harry over to a shelf labeled _New Arrivals_. It was a large box filled with bright-yellow packaged candy.

"The new candy they have looks like the sun exploded, it's so bright yellow," Tom whispered to Harry, picking up a candy and examining the package. It was a chocolate.

"You better steal some," Harry commented casually, fingers rifling through the box.

Tom froze. He whipped his head around to stare at Harry, who continued digging through the box, smirking.

"You thought I didn't know? Do you think you're actually sneaky?" Harry asked, snickering.

"I am!" insisted Tom, quickly glancing around to make sure the owner was still trying to sell Alyssa some new kind of candy. All clear.

Tom quickly palmed the chocolate, then moved his hand around as if to scratch his neck. When he was sure the owner wasn't looking, he quickly let go of the candy, which fell into his shirt. He carefully shifted the shirt, which he had tucked into his trousers before they had left the orphanage. The candy lay flat against his back. He was sure it wasn't visible.

"That was sneaky, you have to admit," Tom said proudly. To his dismay, Harry didn't look impressed.

"Really?" Harry asked. "You can do better. What if someone saw you when the candy was sticking out from your back before you fixed it?"

"You have a better suggestion?" Tom sniffed. "This has been working forever."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "But I've been thinking about this for a while. You really need to change how you do it. It's obvious to me, and I can't even really _see_ the candy, you know?"

"You could've told me earlier," Tom said, offended. And there went his plans of being a world-class pickpocket. How else was he supposed to get them funds for books and decent clothing? And something to sate Harry's sweet tooth?

"I have an idea," Harry said suddenly. "How about I pretend that I'm hurt?"

"No," Tom said. That wouldn't work. If there was really a problem with the economy, there would be no way that the owner would give Harry free candy.

"Why not?"

"Well, nobody's just going to give you candy if you cry."

"That's not what I meant," Harry said, eyes aflame with an emotion that Tom couldn't place. "I meant that I fall, knock over a box, maybe get a candy for my injuries, while you help put _most _of the box candy back."

"Since when did you get so sneaky?" Tom asked. It wasn't like Harry at all. He was the one who objected to 'borrowing' gloves half a year ago.

"Ever since I realized that I really like toffee and nougat," Harry said with a wistful smile.

Tom wouldn't put it past Harry to completely shift his fledgling set of morals into a path that allowed him to have more sweets. Tom sighed. Harry was so ridiculous. But, Harry would work with him today! Maybe it was something Harry was only willing to do on his birthday. But still. Tom felt terribly excited about it.

"Alright!" Tom said, fighting down the urge to make his glee known. "How are we going to make this work?"

* * *

><p>Harry finished going over the plan with Tom. To his amusement, from what he could hear, Alyssa was being terribly annoying. The owner kept telling her about this and that candy, but she rejected them all because she was buying special candy for a special friend on a special day.<p>

Harry was _really _excited to try whatever candy Alyssa deemed special enough.

Having spent about five minutes loitering near the entrance, Harry decided it was time to initiate their plan, lest the owner became suspicious. He turned toward Tom, a scowl firmly planted on his face.

"I don't need you to lead me around everywhere!" Harry said, voice high-pitched. "I'm old enough to move around on my own!"

"No you're not!" insisted Tom, grabbing onto Harry's arm. "You know it's dangerous for you to move by yourself!"

"It's not dangerous!" Harry cried, faking a struggle with Tom's arm. After a few seconds of fake struggling, he 'broke' free of Tom's grip.

"I want to look at candy by myself!" Harry said, turning angrily, stomping forward. He wondered if the shop owner had started paying attention to their little spat yet. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see strands of blue magic frolicking around him, twisting in amusement. Of course Tom would enjoy this. He had a taste for acting, especially if there was something to gain.

"Harry!" Tom said sharply, grabbing onto the back of Harry's shirt.

"Let go!" Harry said, yanking himself forward after feeling Tom grab his collar. That was the signal that Harry had strode far enough to crash into a stand with maximum destruction. Stumbling forward, Harry yelped as his knees impacted with something hard. He carefully braced his hands as he fell forward with a crash and the crinkling of numerous candy wrappers.

"Harry!" yelled Tom with fake worry, kneeling down beside him. "What did I tell you?"

"Harry?" asked Alyssa. "Are you okay?" She sounded a little worried.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Harry said, sitting up with a wince. Despite his best efforts, he had banged his forearm some.

"Son, are you alright?" a kindly voice asked. Harry looked up in the direction of the voice. It sounded slightly creaky, like the second step on the third floor staircase back in the orphanage. It also sounded a little breathy, as if the owner of the voice had trouble catching their breath. It painted an interesting mental image for Harry. Was this person old? Maybe they were..._sixty_! Harry shuddered. Old people creeped Harry out, something that Tom found really hilarious.

"My arm hurts," Harry said, faking a whimper. He rubbed at his arm, wondering vaguely if it would bruise. His magic deemed the injury insignificant; Harry couldn't even see a little bit of magic tasting the area. How rude. He would appreciate the loss of the ache. What was the point of having fairly accelerated healing (something that Tom kept trying to find the answer to in those oblivious Muggle-written books) if it only worked whenever it felt like it? Harry sighed.

"Oh, dearie! Here, have a lolly. It'll make the pain go away."

Harry waited a few seconds. The owner hadn't moved away, and he was just standing there. Harry saw Tom move from the corner of his eye. Tom moved forward and crouched a little, covering the area around his face with a cupped hand. Despite his attempts at having a 'private' conversation, Harry could hear it perfectly clearly.

"Sir, he's blind. You have to hand it to him." Tom's voice had just the right amount of apology and chastisement. Harry had to fight down the urge to laugh. Not now, not now. Later, Harry!

"Oh…," the owner said, sounding unsure. "Here you go, son."

Harry accepted the lollipop with a smile. "Help me up, Tom?" he asked, voice saccharine. "Of course," Tom replied, grabbing onto Harry's extended hand and pulling him up into a hug. Harry suppressed a little gasp as Tom's happy, satisfied magic danced around him, tickling him slightly.

"How much did you get?" Harry whispered into Tom's ear.

"It's a birthday surprise," Tom whispered back smugly. "Can we do this again?"

"Maybe," Harry said noncommittally. "I'm sorry for making a mess, sir," Harry said, arranging his face into a blank expression and purposely training his eyes two feet to the left of the owner. Might as well play up the charade while at it. He separated from Tom, offering his hand. "I'll stay near you," Harry muttered.

"Good," Tom said, turning a little. "Alyssa, Harry and I are going to go to the park. Meet us there when you're done."

"Okay," Alyssa said. "You sure you're fine, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry said, shuffling his feet. He was impatient to get to the park to see the no-doubt large stash that Tom managed to sneak. He was unsure where exactly Tom had hidden it; he didn't feel any lumps in Tom's shirt during that hug except for that one chocolate from before.

"Let's go," Tom said, turning to the exit and starting to pull Harry out of the store. "Thank you, mister!"

"Come back again, lads!" the creaky voice replied.

Harry and Tom left the store wearing identical, slightly evil grins.

* * *

><p>Note: The books <em>The Cat Who Went to Heaven <em>and _Emil and the Detectives _were real, period books published in 1930 and 1929, respectively.

Additionally, the word "brodie" meant 'a mistake' in 1930s slang, as far as I can tell.

* * *

><p><em>Woo, I got this chapter out at a fairly decent clip! This fic is turning out to be a bit research heavy, but I find that I don't particularly mind. It's interesting learning about pre-war Britain. <em>

_Right now, Tom and Harry are just being silly children. They are currently both six. I find that it's so hard to keep them from having silly interactions. But eventually, it'll get more serious as they get older and certain events draw nearer. _

_I want to know if anyone has an idea where the plot is going to be going; I've given a few hints! Also, the lack of searching for Harry isn't a plothole; I have plans!_

_As always, reviews are welcome._


	7. Education Stings

_Warning: this chapter contains corporal punishment._

* * *

><p><em>Written listening to Imagine Dragons- Who We Are. <em>

_This song in particular strongly influenced this chapter._

* * *

><p><strong>August 5, 1933<strong>

"Listen up, everyone!" called Martha. She had assembled all of the six-year-olds in the playroom, not telling anyone anything more than that she had to make an announcement. They all sat sprawled around the room. Tom was commandeering an old, sturdy dollhouse as a seat while Harry sat on the floor next to him, studying his hands with an interested expression. Must be looking at his magic, Tom thought, fidgeting impatiently. They had been waiting for over fifteen minutes while Martha rounded up the stragglers.

"Most of ya probably know this, but on September 1st, ya will all be starting school. And everyone is going," Martha said, giving everyone a stern look.

"That's gross!" John Padmore called out.

"It's necessary," Martha replied with a smile.

Tom was a little excited. He and Harry had bribed quite a few of the other children into teaching them some basic things, but he personally couldn't wait until they were finally in school and learning substantial amounts rather than the piecemeal education they had managed to acquire. Harry had perked up some, but he continued watching his hands.

"We will all be going on a large trip in a few days to pick up school uniforms. Ya will all be enrolled at Kellinger's Primary School. Now, I think I've kept ya here long enough! You may go."

With Martha's words, everyone shot up and dispersed rapidly, as if being in the same room as the terrifying prospect of education was going to deal them grievous harm. Tom snorted at their silliness; they all looked like a bunch of fleeing rabbits. He slipped off the large wooden dollhouse, tapping Harry's shoulder. As Harry slowly unfolded and stood up lazily, Martha started making her way over.

"Harry," Martha said. "Mrs. Cole and I thought it would be easier for ya to attend the same school as everyone else. There is another school an hour away, but we ya'd thought that ya'd like to go with everyone else." Tom gave Martha an evil eye. For some reason, she didn't seem particularly sincere. Perhaps taking Harry to a specialized school would be too much work. In any case, Tom was sure that he could help Harry in school. They'd work something out.

"That's fine," Harry said, glancing at Tom. "Anything else?"

Martha shifted a little bit. "The school's looking to find ya some help with blind-people things, ya know, but it may take a while to find someone. I'm sure Tom'll help ya, though." She had stopped giving Tom pointed looks some time ago, having seen enough evidence of Tom's behaviour around Harry that she had stopped worrying for 'poor' Harry. However, she still had a tendency to make remarks that made Tom feel like spitting in her face. Not that he would do anything so uncouth, of course.

"Of course he will," Harry said, giving Tom a look, a smile twitching on his lips. Tom pursed his lips. Harry would probably find a way to blackmail him into helping him if Tom was being unhelpful. Or he wouldn't help Tom with his little hobby. Ever since Harry had joined in on their 'shopping' exploits, Tom managed to get a large hauls nearly every time. Well, as large at Tom could stuff down his underwear at a moment's notice. Harry still made fun of him for his most successful hiding place. What a git.

"Alright, that's wonderful," Martha said. "I'm gonna go and help out Jo in the kitchen. Don't get into trouble!" With that, Martha left in the direction of the kitchen, probably looking to snatch a few bites while helping. That was the only explanation Tom could find for her portly figure, as Martha lived at the orphanage and as far as he knew, consumed all of her meals there as well.

"So, Tom," Harry said mischievously. "You'll help me in school, right?"

"Of course," Tom insisted. "Why wouldn't I?"

"With everything?" Harry asked. He was looking positively gleeful. Appropriately, the scent of winter in the air appeared.

"...Yes," Tom said hesitantly. He had walked right into a trap.

"So if I happen to need to read a baby book for school, you won't complain?"

"Not this again!" Tom whined. "I'll read your stupid baby books."

"Of course you will," Harry said confidently. "What do you think school's gonna be like?"

"I don't know," Tom mused. "I heard Bobby and Robert talking about a few months ago. I guess we'll have to see."

"I'm sure it's going to be fun!" Harry said cheerfully.

"I hope so," Tom said. "Let's go back to our room. I want to read that book about physics. I think it's actually an old textbook."

"You're boring," Harry complained, but latched on to Tom's arm anyway. "We can go if you agree to play Crup with me in the yard later."

"Fine," Tom agreed sulkily.

* * *

><p><strong>September 1, 1933<strong>

The morning dawned slightly chilly. Harry was awake for ages before Tom, humming with excitement. His magic was more active than usual, literally dancing in nervousness. Harry watched it as Tom slept, trying to calm himself by following the familiar loose patterns, the green of the magic glowing brighter than usual. Birds began chirping, and Harry listened absently to their morning chorus as he examined his magic closer. It wasn't his imagination. His magic was changing slightly.

While before, his magic was a dark green with occasional flashes of gold and seemed to be sometimes shadowed with blue, his magic was now a little different. It had a few thin strands of gold, and had a few hair-thin strands of dark blue magic of a shade that matched Tom's. Additionally, sometimes it would flash pale green as well as gold. Harry couldn't understand why it would be changing. Maybe that happened as people got older? Tom's magic wasn't unchanged either. But his was filled with pale green strands now, and a few dark green ones like Harry's own magic. And if Harry really strained, his vision would grow impossibly clear and he would see thin strands of gold draped around Tom's magic like the glint of sunlight against water. Harry wouldn't be so baffled if their magic changed into different colors. But no, it seemed like it was progressively growing more similar!

Maybe it was a side effect of living near each other. But that couldn't be. Harry thought back to the first magic he saw: that of that nurse in St. Mungo's. It was a plain gold color. Maybe his sight wasn't advanced enough then to see the threads of different colors?

Whatever the reason, he couldn't help but be proud of their magic. It was so pretty! It swirled around in dark colors, glittering with other colors in a way that made it amazingly three-dimensional. He could honestly look at their magic all day. In fact, Harry found himself doing that quite often. Tom would always shoot him exasperated looks when he looked at his hands. However, Tom didn't shoot him looks when Harry was admiring _his _magic. It probably made him feel all special. Pompous git.

Harry jerked a little bit as Martha pounded on the door. "First day of school! Wake up!"

Tom sat up with a huff, rubbing his eyes. Harry snickered as Tom's hair was as messy as his own.

"Good morning," Harry said, smirking. "You look like a right mess."

"Thank you for such a brilliant greeting," Tom snarked, sliding off the bed and plodding to get dressed. "How long have you been awake, Happy Harry?"

"Long enough," Harry said, scratching underneath the collar of his shirt. "I've been watching our magic all morning."

"As usual," Tom said, pulling on his pants. "Seen the future yet?"

"Don't be silly, Tom," Harry chided. "You know Divination is bollocks."

"Do you need me to help you with your tie?" Tom asked, walking over. "I see the practice we did yesterday didn't help at all."

"I tried!" insisted Harry. "But this is what happened!" He brought out the tie from the where it was stuffed into the pocket of his blazer. He tried to put it on a million times that morning, but gave up when he eventually knotted it so tightly that his fingers hurt trying to pull it apart.

"Harry!" Tom said in despair. "What am I going to do with you?" He grabbed the tie from Harry's hands, staring at it in shock. "How did you do this?"

"It was an accident!" Harry said. "I tried putting it on but then this happened and I hurt my fingers trying to undo it."

Tom gave Harry the evil eye. "And how do you propose I undo it?"

"Magic," Harry said. "You're still better it it than I am. I tried but I swear it was laughing at me."

"Of course it was; this is a disaster." With that, Tom stared at the tie in his hands, lit to Harry's vision by the twitching of Tom's magic as he began pulling it forward. After a few moments, Harry watched enviously as a wave of magic wrapped itself around the tie, slowly tugging it apart. After a few seconds, the tie was unknotted, although it looked terribly wrinkled. Tom inhaled sharply, and his magic quickly jumped into the tie, expanding. As the magic inside expanded, the tie straightened out until it looked like it was ironed. With that, Tom's magic drew back, which caused Tom to exhale slowly.

"Now don't move," commanded Tom, stepping up to Harry and wrapping the tie around his neck. With a few deft twists, Harry was officially prepared for school. Harry waited patiently as Tom finished getting ready. When he finished, Tom walked over to Harry, grabbing onto his arms. "Come on, we don't want to be late," Tom said as he pulled Harry out of the room.

They ventured down the stairs, the sound of scrambling emitting from the hallway behind them. Harry suspected that his classmates also were having trouble with their uniforms, as they didn't have a genius Tom to do it for them. Harry was just lucky that way.

They walked into the dining room, Harry sitting at their usual spot while Tom headed up to retrieve their food. As Harry waited, Alyssa came up.

"Oh, Harry!" Alyssa squealed. "You look so grown up now!"

"Do I?" asked Harry. It would be convenient to be older. Maybe if he was older he'd be able to kick Billy's arse properly instead of defending himself and Tom all the time.

"Not really, no," Alyssa said, causing Harry to sigh in disappointment. "But you look really handsome. Except we need to fix that hair; some teachers don't like messy hair."

"I can't, remember?" Harry reminded. Tom had tried to fix it before with little success. The closest to being neat that it had ever been was when Tom had snuck a whole bottle of hair gel from Robert and dumped it on Harry's hair. Alyssa had then remarked that it looked like Harry had never washed his hair throughout his whole life. Tom didn't try again.

"Maybe I can-"

"No. Absolutely not," Harry interrupted.

"But Harry…," Alyssa said, leaning in closer. "I'm worried that a teacher might cane you for it!"

Harry winced. "Why would they allow teachers to do that?"

"It's discipline," Alyssa said in a tone that implied that she had been in subject of such discipline before.

"That sounds horrible," Harry breathed with a shudder.

"We'll just have to stay out of trouble," Tom said, walking up. He placed a plate in front of Harry before settling down himself.

"Easier said than done," Alyssa said. "You'll see." With that, Harry heard her footsteps fade into the distance.

Harry dug into his food after investigating it closely with a spoon. It was porridge, but it had a sprinkle of sugar in the center! Harry gave a little yip of happiness, digging in. Tom sighed.

"Harry! Eat neater; you'll get it all over your uniform."

"Blergh," Harry said through a mouthful of porridge, hunting for a drink around his plate. After taking a sip of milk, Harry swallowed and replied, "I _am _neat."

Tom simply gave him a very unimpressed look. Harry pouted, but complied, slowing down some. Tom had been very mad at him in the beginning for getting all of his clothes dirty. After being forced to wash them all by hand with icy water in the bathroom by Tom, Harry had decided to listen.

In no time, Harry had completely finished his breakfast. He sat bouncing in his chair as Tom continued eating at a sedate pace. After five whole excruciating minutes, Martha called out into the dining hall.

"Everyone out in the hall!"

Harry smirked as Tom stuffed in a few more mouthfuls in a rush. They both stood up, and they walked out into the hall. Martha was there, lecturing the older children.

"Ya'll walk all the little ones to school, alright? Just for the first week. No pranks, or ya all will be on kitchen duty helping dear Jo."

A murmur of assent echoed throughout the room. "Now go!" Martha said. "School will be starting soon."

Harry and Tom began to trail after the others, Harry fighting the urge to skip from excitement and nervousness. Although Tom was trying to hide his excitement, his magic gave him away, excitedly dancing in the air along with Harry's magic. Harry was again struck with how similar their magic looked. Though ultimately different, having such similar colors made them seem like they were part of the same set.

They walked for twenty minutes, during which Harry's nervousness grew and grew. Tom eventually had to whisper reassurances into his ear. But finally, they arrived at school! Harry perked up when he heard the sound of a lot of other children in front of the school. There was laughter, giggling, yelling, and all manner of sounds. It sounded like some were playing a game with their hands, and Harry heard a few pounding steps race right by him, followed by several other sets.

It sounded absolutely brilliant.

Right as they neared the school, a harsh sound rang through the air. Harry turned to look at Tom, who was looking back.

"Ready?" Harry asked, tense with nerves.

"Of course," Tom said confidently, but Harry heard him take a deep breath anyway before he pulled Harry forward.

* * *

><p>Tom was so utterly bored that he wished he could look at his magic some. That would keep him from having to listen to the disgusting drivel that their headmaster was spouting.<p>

Next to him, Harry was blankly staring forward, fighting the urge to fall asleep. Tom had to periodically nudge him to keep him mostly upright. It wouldn't do to get in trouble the very first day of school. Of course, it was only to be expected that Harry would be falling asleep to the dull voice of the headmaster. He was younger than Tom, after all.

The headmaster seemed to be wrapping up his tedious speech. He had blathered on about so many rules that Tom rather thought that the school wished for them to turn into soldiers, following a pre-approved set of motions. Tom wouldn't put it past them, anyway. He had heard some troubling news last time he had went into town. He wasn't sure if Harry had heard, but there was a drunk across the street who had been yelling about an upcoming war. That was utterly ridiculous! Tom thought that he had a fairly decent knowledge of current events, and nothing had even begun to hint at war. But it still made Tom uneasy. Something was off.

He thought back to the newspapers he had been reading. Nothing seemed too suspicious. But then there was that one thing...someone worrying had been elected chancellor in Germany. Tom couldn't remember much. He also distinctly remembered reading about a speech by someone named Churchill worrying about Germany. He had brushed it off in favor of reading other articles. Perhaps it was time to pay more attention to the international news. It wouldn't do to forget that a whole other world existed outside of their little section of London.

The headmaster started calling for prayer. Oh no, not more of that codswallop! Tom had heard enough about religion from Martha, who had thought that making him read the Bible was going to 'fix' him. Needless to say, he _had _read some of it, and it didn't impress him very much.

Tom waited, twitching with irritation, through the headmaster's final words. Harry seemed to have fallen asleep sitting up. Tom jabbed his elbow harshly into Harry's side. He bit back a snicker as Harry's eyes flew open, trying to hold back a yelp. Harry then turned slightly to glare at him.

"That wasn't funny!" Harry hissed under his breath, glancing in the direction of the headmaster.

"It was," Tom whispered back. "You should have seen your face. You looked like a frog."

"That's gross!" Harry said, wide-eyed.

"Shhh!" Tom said. "It's time to go to class. I still don't understand why we're starting school on a Friday."

"Probably because that means that we have one day to suffer before we get the whole weekend to recover," Harry said, standing up. Tom stood up as well, and began to lead them after the other children. The large hall was rather drafty, and he didn't want to stay there any longer than he had to.

"Who is our teacher?" Harry asked, looking around curiously.

"What are you looking for?" Tom asked, listening for some sort of direction. Half of the students had begun to funnel away. Tom noticed Jack Gullinger and Paul Santino standing near a group of children around their age. He began to make his way over to them, Harry holding onto the edge of his shirt as he kept swiveling his head.

"I can't see anyone," Harry said, disappointed.

"Oh. You were searching for others?" Tom asked as they drew near.

"Yeah. Nobody, though."

Tom felt a little satisfied. He would be the only one for Harry. It would be absolutely terrible if Harry made another friend with magic. This saved him from finding a way to deal with a possible problem.

"It's okay. You can just make friends with the others here," Tom said gratuitously. He knew nobody could replace him.

"Hello!" Harry said, with fake cheer. They had reached the others.

"Hey, Harry," Jack said warily, shooting a slightly fearful look at Tom. Tom sneered at him, feeling satisfied when Jack twitched noticeably.

"Hello," a girl with blond hair said. "My name is Janice."

"Hello!" piped up a girl with wild red hair. "I'm Agatha, although I like being called Athy more than my real name because it's a little ugly in my opinion and aren't you excited to start school?"

Tom instantly took a disliking to 'Athy.' He resolved to call her Agatha just to irritate her.

"Nice to meet you, Athy, Janice," Harry said, stepping forward to shake hands. "I'm Harry, and this sour-faced git is Tom," pointing his thumb at Tom over his shoulder. "Are we supposed to head to class?"

"I heard that we're supposed to wait here for our teacher to pick us up," Janice said quietly.

"If that's the case," Tom asked, irritated, "then how come we are the last ones here, with no teacher in sight?"

It was true. Outside of their small group and a few others of children their age, spaced around the hallway, there was no sign of an adult presence. More adult negligence, Tom thought sourly. This wasn't how he planned for his education to go.

"Tom," Harry said quietly, stepping back to tug on his shirt.

Blast it all! How could Harry read him so well?

"I'm fine," Tom said, masking his disappointment with nonchalance.

"Sure," Tom heard Harry whisper under his breath fondly, before he turned away to talk to Agatha.

Tom sighed. "So, are _you_ excited for school?" he asked Janice. She seemed alright so far, although his opinion of her would vastly depend on her answer.

"Yes, I am," Janice said. "I need to learn Maths most to help out my family."

"Family?" Tom echoed. Oh yeah, people existed who had actual family. Tom had forgotten for a moment.

"Oh," Janice said. "Are you from an orphanage? I thought you and Harry looked like brothers."

Tom simply glared at her. He stalked over to Harry. He was about to grab Harry and lead them to stand separately from everyone else, but then he heard a curious thing. Turning around, he stared as a -was that a human being? - stumbled closer down the hallway.

Harry turned in the direction of the sound, and Tom was suddenly glad that Harry couldn't see _it._ The creature - for humans simply didn't look like that - was a disgustingly fat, yellow-clad monstrosity, that gave off the reek of something that Tom could tell was alcohol. The hair was a brown mess, and the yellow clothing was terribly stained. The thing smiled a broken smile, and Tom could see missing teeth and brown spots. Tom shuddered, stepping backwards slightly to the side, in front of Harry.

"Squirts!" the thing said, stopping a few meters away. "Git over here."

Nobody moved. Tom could practically taste Harry's confusion on his tongue. He didn't understand what was quite so horrid.

"I _said,_ git over here!" the thing repeated. "I am your teacher, and you squirts will listen to me."

Agatha took a hesitant step forward. A few others followed. Not willing to be the last one, because standing out in this case would be a supremely horrible idea, Tom pulled Harry forward with him.

As Tom had predicted, the thing had latched on to the last person to draw near.

"Is the itty-bitty squirt afraid?" the thing asked, stalking nearer to a trembling Paul. "No matter. You'll see that I'm very nice. Follow me," the thing commanded, grabbing onto Paul's blazer and pulling him down the hallway.

Tom, shaken, began to follow, Harry pressed close to his side.

"What is going on?" Harry whispered so quietly that Tom almost doubted that he really heard something.

"...That thing is our teacher," Tom said, in horror. "I think I understand what Alyssa meant." No matter how much it stung to admit it, Tom realized that perhaps they were out of their league here.

* * *

><p>Harry had listened with winces as Paul cried out repeatedly. Their teacher had caned him for something. He was pretty sure that everyone else had some idea of why, but Harry couldn't fathom what he could have done. He remembered Paul; he was one of the children in the neighboring rooms of the orphanage. Paul was one of the few who had never been mean to Harry. Surely he couldn't have done something terrible before class even started?<p>

Fear was bitter. Harry felt the coldness start in his belly, and he knew that all of his muscles were tense, as if he was going to run away any second. He knew that wouldn't work out, though. It would be anticlimactic if he ran into the wall instead of the door, and he didn't have the time to make sure he was going in the right direction.

For the first time in a long while, Harry cursed the one who had done this to him; made him helpless and weak in the darkness. At least Tom was a light that Harry could cling to; a linchpin to Harry's stability that he could hold onto always.

Harry felt Tom squeeze his hand. They were sitting next to each other in the exact centre of the classroom. Harry knew that being so centered made Tom feel uneasy; his magic was literally fidgeting.

Harry held back a sigh of relief when the sound of wood hitting skin and Paul's cries ended.

"Let this be a lesson to you," the teacher said. "My word here is law."

The classroom was deathly silent.

"Now," the teacher said, "my name is Mr. Anderton. Let's begin."

To Harry's horror, and quite certainly Tom's, Mr. Anderton started out with the basics. Basics so basic that Harry felt the urge to bang his head in frustration on his desk.

Days of the week. Counting by ones. The class was completely silent, unless

they were called on.

The whole class went by in this silence so profound that it seemed almost tangible. Harry watched the magic around him dance a mirror to his and Tom's emotions, and imagined that they were back in their cold, small room at the orphanage.

"Now," Mr. Anderson said, "time for lunch. Follow me."

Everyone scrambled up at a truly impressive speed, bags thrown over shoulders

loudly, and feet scrabbling against the floor. Harry got up quickly, grabbing onto the bag that Tom thrust into his hand, and grabbing onto his shirt. Harry sped after Tom as they left the classroom in a hurry, Harry knocking his legs on a few chair legs. He heard Tom mutter an apology. Harry didn't care. He understood.

Lunch turned out to be a surprisingly loud affair. After saying prayers (well, Harry and Tom only mouthed them because religion hated magic) the lunch room swelled with laughter, loud talking, and the clink of utensils against plates. The table that Harry and Tom sat at, with their classmates, however, was almost completely silent.

"I can't believe that was allowed!" Athy said.

"Neither can I," Janice agreed. "Hey, your name is Paul, right? Are you okay?"

Harry listened carefully, but he didn't hear anyone say anything. That wasn't a

good sign.

"We just have to stay out of his way," Harry said. "If we don't draw attention to ourselves, then we'll be fine." Harry didn't believe his own words, but he heard a few people slump. Perhaps that did help some of his classmates.

"I doubt that will work," Tom said, which made Harry scowl. Tom was such a

downer. "He seems to be the kind that enjoys picking on someone. The only thing that will change is who is the target."

"Why do you speak like that?" Athy asked. "You sound like a grown-up."

Harry laughed. "Tom likes to read dictionaries for fun." He smirked as Tom's magic curled in irritation.

"Do _not_," Tom said coldly.

"That's what you want everyone to believe!" Harry said sweetly. Harry bit his lip as everyone around them started laughing as well. While cheering everyone up was certainly a good thing, he didn't think doing it at Tom's expense was a good idea. But it was too late.

An elbow jabbed into his side, in the exact same place as before. Harry bit back another yelp.

"You deserve it," Tom hissed under his breath.

"Sorry," Harry whispered.

"You can read?" Janice asked. "That's amazing! I don't think anyone knows how to do that yet."

"Yes," Tom answered shortly.

"How about you, Harry?" Athy asked. "You look like his friend."

"No," Harry said. "Being blind makes it a bit difficult to decipher the letters."

"You're blind?"

"I couldn't tell at all…"

"What does des...eye...fur mean?"

Harry sighed. "I was in an accident when I was small and now I can't see anymore. Decipher means to understand."

The rest of lunch continued with Harry being bombarded with questions, and Tom's increasing irritation. After lunch, everyone headed out to the front of the school. There, Harry was dragged away by Tom to stand underneath a tree some distance away from the others.

"Do you want new friends?" Tom asked angrily.

"No?" Harry said. "Why would you think that?"

"You were answering their questions and joking and laughing about me," Tom said. "I thought that meant that I wasn't important to you anymore."

"Tom!" Harry said. "I'm sorry! I just forgot we weren't home."

"Don't call that place home!" Tom said. "You know it's not."

"Sorry," Harry muttered.

"You better be!" Tom said. Harry leaned against the tree to his back, closing his eyes. Seeing Tom's roiling magic made him feel too guilty. After a few minutes, Tom whispered, "You know, it really made me upset when you practically ignored me during lunch."

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "It's just...everyone was talking and I thought I had to answer…"

Tom was silent for a while longer. "We're still best friends, right?"

Harry opened his eyes. Tom's magic was still...hopeful.

Harry grabbed onto Tom's hand. "Of course we are. The bestest friends ever."

They stood there for a few moments before Tom said, "You know, 'bestest' isn't a real word…"

"Shut up!" Harry said, Tom sniggering.

* * *

><p>Their afternoon lesson didn't go as...quietly as the first.<p>

Tom watched Harry's hands get rapped repeatedly with that blasted cane, feeling cold. The air tasted like cold despair. Harry was biting his lip, eyes closed, and the creature was grinning smugly as he kept bringing that cane down. Harry hadn't yet made a sound, and Tom felt a little proud of him for it. That creature would just enjoy the sound of Harry's pain even more.

Tom was fighting down the urge to jump on that creature and break his neck. He was sure that he could manage it somehow. Maybe if he put his whole weight behind it…

Every slap made Tom wince internally, and the sight of that creature's leer pulled a roiling rage out from deep within. Tom felt like he was fire and ice at the same time. Harry was his. Why was this happening?

It all started with a simple question.

"You, squirt, tell me what one plus one is."

Harry didn't know that the creature was asking him. Tom quickly nudged Harry, who glanced at him in shock before turning back to the front.

"Me?," Harry said.

The creature's face turned dark. "Yes, you, squirt. Are you blind?"

Tom felt horrified when he heard Harry reply clearly, "Yes, in fact."

"Are you making fun of me?" the creature had asked. The face had twisted.

"No, I really am," Harry insisted. "Didn't they tell you?"

No, no, no! Don't imply that the creature doesn't know something, Tom screamed mentally. But it was too late.

"You dare to question me?" the creature questioned, a note of what could have been shock in his voice. "That is simply unacceptable."

A few minutes later, they were in their present situation.

Harry was simply not careful enough. That creature was constantly searching for someone to dominate over. Tom decided to look for some books on human psychology the next time they visited the library. It wouldn't hurt.

But Tom had to do something. It was the first day. The ones who had brought attention onto themselves were no doubt going to be remembered; would suffer in the future. So...Tom decided that he would give that creature the others on a silver platter, if only he could keep himself out of it and keep Harry safe too. He had to.

* * *

><p><em>Notes: Although there were schools for the blind for ages, during the 1930s many blind children still attended their residential schools with additional educational support. During the 1930s the use of the white cane became popular. Braille and a type of writing called New York Point were popularized in the 1880s: I assume that by the 1930s British schools would teach Braille. Before that existed a few writing systems which dealt in embossed letters. <em>

_I have found a few primary sources on British education during this time period, so I'm hoping to at least get the essentials correct. However, I will be extrapolating on the information and tweaking it a little bit, so take everything with a grain of salt! I am making up a school to use, as I don't want to incorrectly portray an actual school that existed in this time period!_

_Corporal punishment was definitely allowed and encouraged during this time period, unfortunately. Also, most schools had a definite religious leaning._


	8. The Changeling Alliance

**September 9, 1933**

Tom grinned evilly as he looked at Harry. Harry was sprawled across their bed - more like a cot, really - in a most amusing manner, sheet somehow bunched underneath Harry's neck. That looked like it would be sore, Tom thought with a wince, but Harry deserved it. It would teach him not to steal the blanket all night! Tom woke up at least once a night shivering. He had become rather skilled at wrestling the blanket away from Harry, but it was still rather irritating. Tom really wished he could teach himself to steal the blanket in his sleep just to get back at Harry. It would be a funny reversal.

But blanket-stealing hijinks all aside, this fine Saturday morning, Tom had a plan. A glorious plan. It began with one of Tom's favorite daily activities... waking up Harry in the most annoying way possible. Normally, Tom woke up at least an hour before Harry, so he had a lot of time to prepare whenever he was feeling particularly vengeful. He had started doing this about a month ago, and it was terribly hilarious.

Today...today was going to be one of Tom's favorites. Tom glanced back at the tattered grey blanket and sprawled limbs on the bed, pulling on another shirt. It was a bit brisk today. Tom buttoned it up, humming with excitement, before carefully opening the door, taking care not to let it squeak. Mrs. Cole tended to disapprove of anyone being up too early. She probably thought that someone would spend the time playing pranks.

Tom was suddenly reminded that what he was doing right now was actually considered 'hooligan' material on Mrs. Cole's part, and that made him stifle a snicker.

Tom crept to the bathroom, slipping in quietly. He walked over to the sink, turning it on sticking his index finger under the stream. The water was icy cold and made his finger feel numb, but Tom ignored it, waiting until he deemed enough time had passed. Turning off the sink with his other hand, Tom slipped out of the bathroom and tip-toed back to his room. Upon entering, Tom couldn't resist grinning again.

He inched closer and closer to Harry, finger still wet and frozen. Harry snorted quietly in his sleep, rolling to the side slightly. Tom inwardly cheered as Harry's ridiculously wild black hair shifted just enough to expose one of Harry's ears. Waiting a few seconds for the perfect moment, Tom caught his breath. Exhaling after a few seconds, Tom quickly thrust his wet and freezing finger right into Harry's ear.

The reaction did not disappoint.

Harry surged out of bed with a girlish scream, twisting in midair until Tom's finger was ripped from his ear. "Tom!" Harry moaned, rubbing his ear. "Why do you hate me?"

"I don't hate you, Harry," Tom said sticking his hand into his pocket and sighing quietly as his numb finger began to warm again. "In fact, I love you very much. So much that I wanted you to enjoy the morning with me before the sun came up. And waking you up properly any other way would have taken too long."

"You just like it when I scream," Harry muttered darkly, wiping at his ear with a grimace. "You know, that's just gross. Why would you even do that?"

"It's effective," Tom shrugged.

"I'm tempted to do something like that to you."

"Ha," Tom said. "As if you ever wake up before me. That hardly ever happens."

"Just wait," Harry said, glowering. "One day."

"I'm scared!" Tom said in a high-pitched voice, pretending to cower away in fear. Harry looked unimpressed.

"I'm tempted to get revenge," Harry said. "It's been a while."

"I," Tom said, paling slightly, "am not going to be convinced into playing that horrible game again."

"But you make such a nice Crup!" Harry wheedled. Tom took a step back. Harry's eyes had changed from anger to a familiar mischievous look.

"No," Tom said, edging away slightly. Harry stepped closer. Tom watched warily as Harry slinked closer, fingertips twitching. Hearing a slight intake of breath, Harry's personal tell, Tom dived for the bed, sprawling across it just in time. Behind him, Harry whirled around, leaping forward as well. Tom wriggled sideways, swinging his feet to the floor and jumping off of the bed as fast as he could, darting to the dresser. Harry followed him, eyes glinting.

"Are you scared?" Harry dared to ask, smirking.

"Of course not!" Tom said, a familiar lie. Harry shook his head in denial.

"You're so obvious!" Harry declared, jerking toward Tom in an ungraceful motion that Tom hadn't even seen coming. Tom crashed into the dresser behind him, holding back yelps of laughter as Harry's evil fingers danced down his sides. Harry looked smugly at Tom, who was struggling to breathe, vainly trying to convince himself that tickling didn't feel ticklish in the slightest.

"Stop!" Tom wheezed, bending over. He shoved at Harry, a few high-pitched laughs breaking free. "You're evil!"

"You're the one who stuck your soggy finger in my _ear,_" Harry said, folding his arms with a smirk. "It's only fair that you suffer too."

"But your face is always so funny!" Tom whined. "I can't help it."

"Try," Harry said. "I swear, I'll learn to wake up before you. And then you'll wake up every morning with your hand in a cup of water."

"You wouldn't," Tom said, horrified. "That's gross."

"It would be your fault. I'm warning you!" Harry said, pointing his finger at Tom. "Now come on, let's get breakfast." Harry reached out a hand, Tom grasping it tightly and pulling himself out of his half-folded position. Harry began pulling Tom toward the door, but suddenly froze.

"Oh wait, I forgot to change," Harry muttered, shooting an annoyed look at Tom. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Tom actually hadn't noticed, but he instead plastered an immensely smug grin on his face. To his delight, Harry narrowed his eyes and huffed, stomping over to the dresser, pulling out some clothes and pulling them on. Tom sniggered when Harry ended up pulling on Tom's pants by mistake, almost tripping on them. Harry shot him a glare that was so menacing that Tom felt proud of him.

* * *

><p>Harry finished eating his porridge, sighing contentedly. He had snuck some sugar from the kitchen storage a few nights ago when he was feeling restless. Harry had made sure to sprinkle the sugar very carefully over his porridge, hiding the paper it was wrapped in against the palm of his hand. Of course, after Tom had noticed Harry's addition, he had wheedled Harry into sharing some. So they were both now full after a pleasanter breakfast than usual.<p>

"What are we going to do today?" Harry asked, eyes closed as he savored the sugary sweetness that lay so smoothly on his tongue. "It's odd to think about going to school most of the week."

"Well," Tom said, leaning closer. "I think we need to figure out how to deal with that creature."

"Mr. Anderson?" Harry questioned, pausing. "Why do you call him that?"

"It's just because that's what he is," Tom stated firmly. "He's disgusting both in looks and personality. Something that disgusting can't be human."

"Tom, you used the word 'disgusting' twice!" Harry called in mock horror. "Shame! Repeating words!"

Tom glared at him and poked him hard in the arm. "Shut up. I was explaining."

"Okay," Harry said, sniggering. "Go on. Tell me about this scary scary creature that is actually our teacher."

"I don't understand why you can be so...so...okay with him!" Tom sputtered. "You remember what he did to you, right?"

"Yeah," Harry said, focusing his sight on the pleasant coils of his magic. "I remember."

Harry remembered all too well. Feeling his face slipping into a frown, he rubbed at his arm. He had felt so helpless then. And feeling Tom twitch near him, feeling his roiling magic as it swirled around in pain and confusion and something that Harry was quite sure was helplessness…

"I don't like thinking about it," Harry muttered.

"That won't help you, you know," Tom said pointedly. "Pretending you're not scared of him is just lying to yourself. Next time he scares you, you won't be ready."

"What do you think we can do?" Harry said, exasperated. "We're just...babies, compared to him."

Tom was pensieve. "I'll be right back," Tom said quietly. Harry listened to the clatter of their bowls as Tom stacked them on top of each other, followed by the clink of their spoons. That finished, Harry listened as Tom drew away, peeking up to watch Tom's retreating form. He felt a little bad that Tom was doing that for them every day, but he didn't really feel like he could do much about it. Navigating through the maze of chairs and tables when they were empty was hard enough as it was. Harry had already collected a few impressive bruises on his shins until he learnt to be a little more careful.

As Harry watched Tom return, he stood up and sighed. "Let's go to the park?" Harry offered as a peace offering. No matter how much Tom denied it, he loved going to the park, even if it was probably because of the lack of other orphans. Not to mention the distinct lack of Alyssa, who professed to hate nature.

"Alright," Tom said, grabbing onto Harry's arm. "But it's cold outside today. We need to dress better."

Harry followed Tom up to their room, yawning a little. "We'll finish this conversation later," Tom murmured. Harry nodded his assent. "How cold?" Harry asked, heading over to the window. He laid his hand along the glass, closing his eyes. The cold seemed to trickle into his fingers from the point of contact with the glass at an almost leisurely pace, the chill numbing his fingers.

"Yeah, cold," Harry answered to himself.

"Here," Tom said, and Harry turned to face him. Harry wasn't fast enough, though, as he turned right into the coat that Tom had thrown at him. It smacked him right in the face, the scratchy material feeling rather unpleasant as it slid down into his waiting arms.

"Thanks a lot," Harry muttered darkly. Tom only graced him with a charming smile.

"I just would hate for you to be cold!" Tom said. "It wouldn't do for you to catch a chill."

"Yeah, because you hate caring for me when I'm sick. You could just say that," Harry said, smiling wryly.

"Lies!" Tom insisted. Harry shrugged on his coat, humming when he noticed how warm it was. He wasn't quite sure exactly where and when Tom had obtained this one, but it was certainly lovely. He wondered if it was 'permanently borrowed' or not. Some items Tom only loaned, as they were more likely to be missed. Whatever the situation, Harry could enjoy the coat as it was now.

"I'm ready," Harry said, sticking his hands inside a pair of soft gloves, wrapping a scarf around his neck. "I feel like I'm overdressed."

"You'll be fine," Tom said dismissively. "It's cold outside; you'll be glad you wore all that."

Tom grabbed Harry's arm and they proceeded to make their way out of the orphanage. What they were doing could be called sneaking out, as they hadn't told anyone about it. However, Tom had made the argument that if the adults at the orphanage truly cared about the orphans sneaking out, they wouldn't leave the gate open during the day. Harry knew that he and Tom weren't the only ones.

Tom ambled casually in the direction of the gates, leaning against the brick wall that surrounded the courtyard. Harry leaned back against it too, shivering when he touched some of it with his neck. He rearranged his scarf.

"Do you see anyone?" Harry asked, listening intently.

"Nobody's looking out way," Tom said, yanking sharply at Harry's coat. "Come on."

Throat suddenly tight with apprehension, Harry slipped out of the gate behind Tom, who immediately turned sharply to the right, walking confidently. Tom always said that one had to look like they knew what they were doing to keep people from interfering. Harry didn't question it; everything had worked for Tom so far.

They walked along the sidewalk for a few minutes, steadily relaxing...to a point. After Tom finished swiveling his head around, scanning their surroundings, he sighed. "We can go."

Harry smiled broadly, turning around the corner a half-step behind Tom. He grimaced a little as the cloying, too-sweet smell of garbage hit him in the face.

"That's gross," Harry said, shuddering. Tom grunted his assent, speeding up. Harry smiled fondly. Tom and his park, really.

After making their way to the park, which had involved a harrowing almost-accident with a bicycle, and an unexpected car as they crossed the street, they had finally made it to the the park.

Harry inhaled the smell of plants and soil and _living things_, sighing happily. Beside him, Tom did the same, his magic uncoiling into goo and lazily moving around them. Harry noted with amusement that his magic seemed to be doing the same thing. He wondered if it was a common side-effect with wizards and witches.

Tom led them over to his favorite tree. Harry wasn't quite sure what kind of tree it was, although Tom probably knew. What was most important was that the tree was behind two fairly large bushes, isolating it a bit. There, they could curl up and read and even practice their magic together on particularly empty days.

It appeared that today was one of those days. Harry bundled his coat a little closer to his body, snuggling back against the tree. He felt Tom do the same thing on his other side.

"So," Harry said. "Mr. Anderson."

Tom sighed. "We can't get in trouble with him again. The orphanage already thinks bad things about us."

"I know," Harry said. "They can't kick us out, right?"

Tom was silent for a few moments before softly replying, "I hope not."

"Any ideas?" Harry asked. He ran his fingers across the smooth grass, digging them as far as he could into the cold ground.

Tom shifted. Harry waited for him to say what he wanted to say. If Tom's hesitation meant anything, it meant that Tom thought that Harry would disapprove of his idea.

"I think," Tom said carefully, "that we should give the creature something else to focus on."

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked. "Pranks?"

"No," Tom replied quickly. "I mean, you noticed that he likes hurting us. He's always going to be hurting someone."

"That sounds like giving up," Harry said.

"No!" Tom repeated. "I meant that we could shift the blame onto others. Someone is going to have to suffer anyway; it's better if it's not us."

Harry sat numbly for a few moments. "Are you serious?" Harry asked, voice turning high-pitched. "So everyone else suffers instead of us?"

"Do you have a better idea?" Tom snapped. "It's us or them. Choose. You don't even know half of them, and the rest are just others who hate us from the orphanage."

"It doesn't seem right!" Harry insisted. "How would we be any better than Mr. Anderson?"

Tom didn't reply for a minute. When he began talking again, his voice started out low and silky. "Harry, just because the creature likes hurting people doesn't mean that you do. This is...protecting ourselves. We get picked on, they get picked on...it makes no difference." Tom inhaled loudly before continuing. "Except this way, _we'll_ be safe, and I won't have to feel like I'm going to explode when you're about to cry!" Tom said with a voice had risen a substantial amount, cracking a little.

Harry was quiet. "I see."

"It's us or them," Tom finally said. "And I don't know about you, but I'd pick us."

* * *

><p>Tom watched the clouds moving through the net of leaves far above his head. Harry had been silent for a while, probably thinking his words over. He knew it wouldn't take Harry too long to realize that he was right; that Tom was the only person that Harry could count on, because Tom knew that Harry would always be there for him.<p>

That cloud looked sort of like Harry, Tom thought. A few wisps of pale grey streamed out artfully from the main body of the cloud, and if Tom squinted, it looked rather like Harry's annoying mess of hair. He smiled as the cloud changed slightly in the wind. Now it looked more like a silhouette of Harry than ever...although it did somewhat resemble a melted teapot.

The park was deliciously quiet today. All that Tom could hear was the faint sound of Harry's breathing and the rustle of the grass by Harry's leg where he was digging into the soil. The air tasted clear and icy, as if the stink of the city was just beyond a wall. Tom knew that it was silly; the smell of exhaust and garbage was just looming around the little isle of clean air that was the park. But somehow, being here with Harry and tasting nothing but nature and winter on his tongue was the best feeling in the world.

Tom lifted a hand, looking it over. It was odd how something as simple as a hand could do so many wonderful things. He knew he couldn't see it - that was Harry's thing - but sometimes he thought that he could feel his magic as it spun out and did wonderful things. He glanced over at Harry, who was still pensively looking into the distance. The grass around his fingers was matted and slightly torn, as was the ground that he had been digging into.

Tom didn't like Harry feeling uncomfortable, but it was truly an "us or them" situation. He couldn't understand why it wasn't as easy to Harry as it was to him. Why did Harry care so much about what other people felt? He remembered the bet that he had made with Harry months ago. He thought that Harry had won it by now. He had felt extremely strong emotions such as hate, fear, and protectiveness...but they all centered around himself and Harry. It seemed as if Harry decided to feel emotions for everyone else in the world. Tom couldn't help but think that that was dangerous, though.

Tom dropped his hand back down to the ground, right on top of a dying flower. He gazed at the bent flower head peeking out between his fingers for a few moments before summoning that familiar feeling of power being just one twitch away. He focused on the flower and willed it to turn back time and be the way that it once was. To open and be as if autumn was not approaching. He felt something whisper past his fingers and he watched, still entranced with the wonder of magic, as the flower slowly straightened, brown withered petals slowly turning back to pale pink.

Tom heard a shift beside him, and he turned to meet Harry's eyes, who looked at him for a moment before looking down at the flower. Tom felt his magic finish the job and retreat back into him, and Harry's gaze turned back to him.

"I don't understand," Harry said. "You don't understand why it's bad to hurt other people. But then you go and do things like this."

"It's just a flower," Tom said, lifting his hand away from the flower and settling it just off to the side. "I don't think you can compare flowers to people."

"But it doesn't make sense," Harry said with a sigh. "But it's okay. I'll get you to understand one day." Harry leaned into Tom's shoulder, resuming his digging in the ground.

"I'll get you to understand _me_," Tom said, but Harry was silent. They sat like that for a long time.

* * *

><p>He was frustrated. Understandably frustrated, of course, but that didn't stop him from making him want to curse the next person to enter his study. He growled quietly as his eyes flicked back and forth over the reports he had on his desk. He needed to distract himself from the mind-numbing stupidity of humanity before he set his study on fire.<p>

He walked out of his work study and turned, striding quickly down the dark and gloomy halls of his manor. After a few short strides, he reached the door to his personal study and entered, closing the door and absently casting a powerful ward in its direction. He didn't want to be disturbed by anyone when he was doing his best to get rid of that simmering irritation which seemed to be only brewing and steeping underneath his skin.

Maybe today he would get more results.

He walked over to a large desk covered with parchment and muggle paper and a few odd potions ingredients that he hadn't felt like clearing away last time he was tinkering. He swept the potions ingredients to the side with a flick of his wand, making them vanish with a slight jab. He leant over the desk, fixing his gaze onto a map of England.

"Where could you be hiding?" he muttered under his breath, stroking the map carefully with one finger. "I know you survived; I want to see if it worked…"

* * *

><p><strong>September 11, 1933<strong>

"I can't believe you did that," Harry whispered hotly, shooting a glare at Tom. Tom merely lifted an eyebrow at him before resuming his careful scanning of their surroundings.

"Tom!" Harry said, not caring one whit that someone from the large group of orphanage children would hear. "Why did you make it seem like Athy brought in those frogs?"

"Shh!" Tom said, his hand tightening on Harry's wrist. "You know why."

"But Mr. Anderson was in a good mood today!" Harry said. "Maybe he wouldn't have done anything. You just provoked him!"

"Why do you think he was in a good mood?" Tom whispered viciously. "I heard during lunch that he caught someone trying to draw something bad on the walls."

"Maybe it would have stayed!" Harry protested, heart sinking. Tom had been pointedly mentioning Mr. Anderson's lack of humanity and the principle of "you are more important than anyone else" for the past two days. Harry hated to admit it, but it was wearing on him, especially with how today had went.

"You know it wouldn't have," Tom said simply.

"I don't like it," Harry said firmly. "I still think that making other people in trouble on purpose is wrong. What about just staying silent in class?"

"He'll get you in trouble for anything if nobody does anything," Tom said. Then, Tom froze. "Harry," Tom said quietly, "get ready to run."

"What is it?" Harry asked, tensing up. He lifted himself slightly onto his toes, bending his knees a little.

"Billy. He's waiting in an alley just a little bit ahead of us."

Harry felt cold trickling down his spine. "Oh. Together or separate?"

"We're too far from the orphanage for separate. You'd get hit by a car."

"Nice to know you have so much faith in me," Harry weakly joked. "Can't we go around?"

"No," Tom said curtly. "They've seen us. Go!"

Tom clutched harder onto Harry's wrist like a vise, leaping into the street. Harry heard a few yells as well as one long horn sound, but it didn't look like it was too near them. Tom had probably been waiting for the best opportunity to cross.

As they both ran across the road, Harry tripping on the curb which appeared too fast for him to realize that Tom had stepped up, Harry could hear the sound of pounding footsteps behind him. There was one loud yell, and Harry thought that he could hear some sort of collision. Maybe one of Billy's friends had been hit by a car. They would deserve it.

The air, horribly humid and warm, unlike the chilly day they had had in the park two days before, made Harry feel like he was choking. The taste of gasoline lay thick on his tongue. Tom's grip seemed clammy to Harry, but that couldn't be helped.

Tom was twisting around barriers that Harry could not see like mad. Harry knew that Tom was not going as fast as he possibly could so that Harry could keep up without crashing into everything. Despite Tom's care, Harry still occasionally hit his shins against something hard - probably a bench - and once collided almost fully with a person who was ridiculously soft. Tom had yanked him away quickly, which Harry was glad for, as he had accidentally grabbed onto something that had detached into his hands. Harry had a suspicion that that person would miss it.

Tom was rather brilliant. He knew the streets around them ridiculously well. Often, they could find a good hiding place to lay low in for a while before Billy's gang caught up. Billy's gang would win over a longer-distance race, so Harry knew that it was truly wonderful that Tom came up with such good ideas all the time.

"Stay close to me!" Tom shouted back at him, darting to the left. Harry followed him, trying to get as close as possible to Tom without making them trip. The area they had turned into wasn't cobblestone. It felt rather springy, actually. Much like the ground that Harry loved digging his fingers into when they were at the park.

"Squeeze in between the rails," Tom commanded, crouching down and shoving Harry forward. Harry flung his hands forward, hitting cold iron railings and curling his fingers around them. The railings were not very widely spaced, so Harry turned sideways and shoved himself in between the railings. The railings were rather tight, pressing uncomfortably into Harry's body. His head even got a little stuck, but Tom grabbed it and pushed it to one side enough to allow to pass. Harry tumbled backward onto what felt like grass, panting. He sat up on his elbows and watched Tom struggle through.

Tom managed to most of his body through, but he did it rather awkwardly. He had to awkwardly wriggle on his side, feet first. Still, he was making it. Then Harry felt his smile slip off his face as a familiar voice said with a wheeze, "Found ya!"

It was Billy.

"Grab onto him!" Billy commanded. Harry could almost hear the smug smile on Billy's face. It was surely there. Harry's eyes widened as he realized what Billy was saying.

Harry leapt forward. Tom had turned himself as wide as he could go, and he was now flailing at the air above him. Harry saw as hand-shaped voids clutched onto Tom's shirt and yanked. Tom didn't budge, though.

"Let go!" Harry yelled, punching wildly at the air through the fence. To his disgust, he didn't hit anyone. He yelped as someone's foot connected with his chin, making his teeth clatter terribly against each other. Harry shuffled backwards, grabbing onto Tom's legs.

"Tom, I'll get you!" Harry said, yanking back as hard as he could. To his dismay, Tom moved only slightly.

"Harry, just go!" Tom said, out of breath. "I'm making it hard for them to move me."

"I'm not leaving you!" Harry said, offended. With that declaration, he pulled harder. As it proved futile once more, Harry felt tears prick his eyes.

"Yes, little Harry. Go away. The freak said so," Billy said scathingly from somewhere past Tom. "We only want to talk to him."

"Liar!" Harry said, glaring madly in Billy's direction. "Old boys don't talk to anyone unless they want to hurt them!"

"I'm not old!" Harry heard someone squawk.

"True," Billy said. "Pull harder, Sam!"

"I'm trying!" Sam said.

Harry watched as Tom's eyes met his. They seemed to be fiery and angry. Tom wanted him to go. Tom thought he couldn't handle himself. He was only a few months younger! Harry would show him.

With that, Harry pulled on Tom's feet with his hands and something _else._ He wanted to crow when his magic actually responded to him promptly, despite using it so close to muggles, but that was prevented when Tom crashed into him, falling on top of him.

Tom quickly scrambled off, crouching low to the ground and staring at Billy's gang.

"That was obvious," Tom said quietly.

"Did you have any other ideas?" Harry asked hotly. Tom gave him an exasperated look, but didn't say anything.

"Hey! How did he do that?" Sam asked.

"Luck?" someone offered. It sounded like it could be Edward.

"We'll get you later," Billy ominously promised, and Harry could hear the sickening crack of Billy's knuckles. After a few long, agonizing seconds, where Harry listened with bated breath for any movement which would signal an attempt by Billy to get past the fence, Harry heard footsteps drawing away. Harry sighed in relief. Although he normally cursed Billy's age, in this case it meant that he was too big to follow them through the fence.

Harry turned to Tom. "Now what?"

* * *

><p>Tom and Harry were sitting behind a bush in the garden they had broken into. At first, Tom had been hesitant about staying in the garden. It was a very nice garden, bushes trimmed and clipped so that not one leaf was out of place. The flowers, liberally scattered in the far side of the garden, looked absolutely exquisite, not even beginning to wither despite the weather turning. The garden, albeit small, was very well-cared for. Tom had worried that the owner would find them, but one look at Harry's shivering form had convinced him that surely it would be fine to stay there just for a little bit.<p>

Tom had chivvied Harry behind a large flowery bush to wait for Harry to calm down. Harry had plopped himself down on the ground and refused to move. Tom had sighed, but he stayed.

Tom looked over at Harry. His face was broken up into a mosaic of shadows and dappled light, his eyes almost glowing their bright green. It was ironic how Harry's eyes were so remarkably vivid, considering that they didn't see anything but darkness. And magic, of course, Tom thought. He wondered what it would look like. Harry had described it to be like many tiny threads…

"Are you feeling better?" Tom asked. "We should probably go."

"I don't want to," Harry said. "I don't want to go anywhere. At all."

"Harry," Tom started. "The longer we stay here, the riskier it is."

"I don't care!" Harry spat, eyes alight with a poisonous fire. "We have magic; we can deal with it, whatever the risk."

Tom lifted an eyebrow. "You're the one always telling me about your 'Statue' of Secrecy. But you're the one doing magic near Muggles?"

"I don't care," Harry said, hugging his knees closer to his chin. Tom watched him for a moment.

"What's wrong?" Tom asked hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

"No," Harry muttered. "Of course not."

"Then what is it?" Tom asked. Harry could just tell him outright without dancing around the subject. He was about to blow up anyway.

"I hate feeling useless."

Tom blinked. "So do I. Is it the Muggles?"

"Yes!" Harry said. "It seems like they've been getting meaner lately. First they were bullying you, then they started bullying both of us, and now Mr. Anderson...it's not fair."

"Well," Tom said, quirking his lips, "Mrs. Cole always says that life isn't fair."

"As if you ever care about what she says," Harry said dismissively. "I just wish I could stop them. But my magic won't even work right for me!"

It was true. Harry and Tom practiced magic every day for at least an hour, and while Tom could get some sort of result nearly every time, Harry's magic only jumped into action occasionally.

"What do you want to do?" Tom asked. "We already practice every day."

"I just want to finally figure out why it works better for you!" Harry said. "Then I could do it too, and then I can carefully use it to keep the Muggles from doing bad things to us." Harry gave him a suspicious look. "Why don't you ever use it near them?"

"You're the one who likes to take risks," Tom said primly.

Harry stared at him. "Tom...why?"

Tom stared back at him, biting his lip. He wasn't sure how to tell it to Harry. Harry seemed to have strict ideas on what was good and what was bad, and despite Tom's perpetual attempts to explain his thinking to Harry, Harry only rarely agreed fully with Tom.

"Tom…," Harry said warningly. "I don't care how bad it is. Tell me."

Tom leaned back against the curled iron fence behind him. "If I tried to use magic around them, I think I'd hurt them too much. And then you would be mad at me." Tom didn't know how to express how mad and seething he always was whenever someone tried to hurt him and Harry. How his very blood seemed hot and icy at the same time, and how his head seemed to cloud until he had to push back his anger and magic as if it was a heavy blanket pressing into his mind.

"Ah." Harry looked pensive. "I guess I'll have to try harder."

Tom gave him a weak smile. "Or you could support my idea to keep the eyes off of us?"

Harry turned his head away a little, giving a little snort. "Maybe."

They continued sitting in the shade of the bush, occasionally shifting to move into a larger patch of afternoon sun. Harry had started picking leaves off of the bush and was shredding them perfectly down the centers. Tom had taken to using the discarded leaf halves to form patterns in the grass.

"Do you think someone's wondering where we are?" Harry asked eventually. "I think we've been here a long time."

"Probably," Tom said.

"I'm hungry," Harry said suddenly. As if to punctuate his statement, Tom heard a terribly loud growl of hunger coming from Harry's direction. It sounded like some sort of scary animal, which Tom thought was really hilarious, as Harry was about the furthest thing from a scary animal that he could think of. Tom started snorting, which eventually made Harry laugh too.

"Do you feel like leaving now?" Tom asked. Harry glanced at Tom.

"Yeah, sure."

Tom got up, dusting off his pants. Harry got up as well, stretching with a little shiver. "What does it look like here?" Harry suddenly asked. "I never got around to making a picture in my head."

Tom smiled, not surprised. Harry was always oddly absentminded.

"It's very pretty here," Tom began. "The grass is really green and a little further in front of you are a lot of flowers in so many colors. Pink, red, yellow...we were sitting behind a bush with white flowers. To the left is the fence which we slipped through. To the right is an iron bench with iron flowers on it, and behind it is someone's house. It looks really nice; nicer than the orphanage…"

Tom trailed off, eyes wide. "_Harry! Don't move. There's a snake."_

"What?" Harry asked, voice confused.

"_Don't move!"_ Tom repeated, staring ahead. There was a small little snake, no more than ten inches long, just lying in the sun-covered grass just a few feet away from them.

"_Why not, Speaker?"_

"Tom?" Harry asked. "What's going on? You sound funny."

"What?" Tom asked, looking at Harry in confusion. "I just said that there's a snake ahead. Don't move."

"That's not what it sounded like!" Harry insisted. "It sounded like you were hissing."

"I wasn't!" Tom said, looking back at the snake.

"_Speaker?"_

"_Who's saying that?"_ Tom asked, staring suspiciously at the snake. To his utter shock, the reply came from its direction.

"_I am, Speaker. My name is Assa. I will not move, but I ask again, why should I not move?"_

"_Are you...poisonous?"_ Tom enquired hesitantly.

"Tom?" Harry sounded a little panicked. "Your magic is moving funny around your throat? What's going on?"

"_I am not 'poisonous.' The right word is 'venomous', though."_

Tom looked at Harry. "Harry...can you hear it talk? The snake."

"Wait," Harry said, shaking his head a little. "You've been talking to a snake? Are you serious?"

"Yes?" Tom said. "It said its name is Assa."

"Oh," Harry said weakly. "Oh."

"_May I come nearer?" _Assa asked. "_I did not think that I would ever get to meet a Speaker."_

"Sure," Tom said. He caught a look of confusion on Harry's face.

"Sure, what?" Harry asked.

"Oh," Tom said, looking back at the snake. "_I don't think that I can tell when I'm speaking snake or not."_

"_It's called Parseltongue," _Assa added helpfully, drawing closer..

"Tom, can you speak English? I didn't understand what you said." Harry asked.

Tom looked at Harry, trying to test out a theory. "I'm trying." Tom paused. "Was that English?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Yeah. That was English. Real English."

"Good," Tom said, looking at Assa, who was now curled up in front of Tom's feet. He slowly bent down, sticking out a hand slowly. "_Do you want to come up?" _Tom asked.

"_Oh, I would love to!" _Assa cried happily, springing forward and winding around Tom's grip in half a second. "_Oh, you're warm!"_

"I think I figured it out," Tom said, looking back at Harry. "If I look at a snake, I speak snake. Although Assa said it's called 'Passeltongue' or something."

"Parseltongue," Harry corrected, eyes focused on Tom's hands. Tom wondered if he could see Assa's form outlined against his magic. Wait...how did Harry know what it was called?

"How do you know that?" Tom asked. "Do other wizards know how to talk to snakes?"

"I'm not sure," Harry said. "But I remember hearing about Parseltongue before. I think it was in one of the stories my parents used to tell me."

"Is it a rare thing?" Tom asked, getting excited in spite of himself.

"Probably," Harry said. "The magic around your throat stopped swirling."

"Did it?" Tom asked, lifting a hand to his neck. It didn't feel any different from before. "Do you think it was the Parseltongue?"

Harry thought a little bit, but then shook his head no. "No, it's like that one time that my magic went into you and then you said that you could taste magic. Which is still weird. Why are we both so weird?"

"Because we're special," Tom said proudly. "Even among wizards, we're better than everyone else."

* * *

><p><em>This time, you all get your first glimpse of another important character! The first person who guesses who it is correctly will get a one-shot dedicated to them! I have one in the works already. <em>

_Additionally, I wished to mention that I got an Ao3 account not too long ago, and this story is mirrored there. If you prefer reading on that site, the link is in my profile. I also have a sketch of Tom and Harry about Hogwarts age up. _

_This chapter is the longest yet! I had so many things that I wanted to put into it. I also had quite a few research projects that I had procrastinated on...that's why this one is so late. I'll continue trying to get things out as fast as possible, though! _


	9. Shattered Skies

**September 18, 1933**

"You thought we would forget, didn't you?" Billy spat as he threw a quick punch in the direction of Tom's stomach. Tom twisted awkwardly out of the way, bringing his foot up and flinging it toward Billy in panic. To his brief delight, it collided quite beautifully between Billy's legs, eliciting a pained gasp.

Billy hunched over, barely standing on his legs. As Tom smirked, split lip be damned, he looked over at Harry with an appraising eye. Harry didn't look very well, curled up in a ball on the floor. Julian was kicking him alternately with Edward, almost lazily. Cowards.

"Freak!" Billy finally gasped, descending into a brief hacking coughing fit. Billy had acquired a nasty cold one cold winter a few years back, and it had never truly left him. Tom was glad that it didn't seem to be contagious, as Billy much enjoyed spitting on both Harry and Tom.

"No more than you," Tom said, jerking his left arm in a half-hearted attempt to get free of Sam.

Billy looked up at him incredulously. "You're the freak! You and Harry. Both of you. Nasty, freaky demons!"

"Yeah!" Sam said from Tom's left. "We always knew that you were messed up, but now you've gone and infected Harry too!"

"We're just trying to help, you see," Austin said, digging his jagged fingernails into Tom's arm. Tom clenched his teeth but tried not to show any reaction. That would be allowing them to win.

"Stop wriggling like the worm you are," Billy commanded. "Freak."

Tom glared at him even as Billy began swinging at him again. Some of Billy's hits were rather heavy, but Tom knew that he wasn't getting the worst of it. Billy, for all his bluster and seeming command of the other boys, wasn't actually that strong. Tom worried more for Harry, as Julian was a fan of football and had a rather strong kick.

Tom's head whipped to the side as Harry let out a small scream. He watched, shaking slightly with anger, as Edward clutched onto Harry's face, keeping it from moving as Julian pulled back his foot to give a kick.

Tom knew enough about anatomy that a kick like that to his face, if strong enough, could be quite dangerous. And there was no way in hell he was going to let Harry die and leave him alone in this place. It was time to pull his wild card.

"_Assa!" _Tom called with a heavy heart. Assa would be able to assist them this once, but Tom knew what her prospects of surviving past this encounter would be.

"_Yes, master?_" Assa enquired from behind Tom. She had stayed around to watch and worry as Harry and Tom had been ambushed outside of their room.

"_Help him, please."_

"_Of course,"_ Assa said, sadly. "_Goodbye, Speaker."_

As Tom finally hunched over, gasping for air as a particular blow landed right in his solar plexus, he heard screams. His arms were suddenly let go, causing Tom to topple over onto his side, writhing like a landed fish.

"Snake!" Sam yelled. "It's a snake!"

"We can see that, you idiot!" Edward whispered, backing into the dirty grey walls of the hallway.

"It's the freak's fault," Billy said lowly. "He did this. Kill it!"

"No way in hell!" Austin cried, walking backwards without stopping until he hit Sam.

Tom opened his teary eyes and smiled slightly as he saw what Assa had done. She had curled around Harry's head like some sort of crown and was now swaying slightly side to side, her neck gracefully arched into a serpentine "S," ready to strike. Harry was lying very still, eyes wide open. He had become used to Assa's presence within the week that they had had her, but he was still nervous when Assa was too near him.

Julian stepped forward. "I bet I can kick that snake right off of new freak's head."

Tom's heart went cold, and Assa moved.

It was glorious to see, that strike that Assa made. She leapt right off of Harry's head, body sinuously unwinding in mid-flight from Harry's head. She was airborne for a short, neverending second before her fangs latched onto Julian's ankle.

"Run, Harry!" Tom yelled, scrambling to his feet. He lurched toward Harry, grasping wildly at Harry's shirt and hoisting him up, mentally apologizing as he aggravated some of Harry's new injuries. The others were stunned in shock as Julian let out a screech, but that would not last long.

Harry stumbled but righted himself, clutching tightly at the fabric of Tom's shirt. Tom immediately broke into a sprint, racing down the corridor. He turned to the stairs, taking the opportunity to glance for one second to see what was happening; who was chasing them.

Tom wanted to cry when he saw Billy's foot descend on Assa's head.

* * *

><p>Harry and Tom were stuck in a rather frustrating dilemma. They had ran outside and hid in the freezing metal confines of the playground in the courtyard. Nobody would look for them there, among that twisted expanse of plastic and metal. It was too cold today to properly enjoy it, and it was lunchtime anyway.<p>

Harry's stomach rumbled, and he tried to place a hand over it to quiet it. It didn't work. Harry sighed, leaning back into the cold metal tube that he and Tom were hiding in. It felt very soothing on the new bruises that would be sure to decorate Harry's back next morning. Harry wondered what colors they would be. It was almost like a living decoration. First they would be red, then purple and blue, then they would fade into green and yellow. If not for them being so painful, Harry wouldn't mind them that much. Harry thought it was really interesting that the injuries would change color like that, but Tom didn't agree. He was always so irritated when Harry asked him what colors the bruises were each day.

"We need to get back," Tom brought up.

"I know," Harry said. "I don't want to."

"What do you suggest, then?" Tom asked, lounging across Harry's crossed legs. He didn't like the idea of lying in a dirty tube with his good clothes on.

"I wish we could fly," Harry said mournfully. "Then we could fly up right to our window and keep our door locked forever and only leave that way."

"Wizards can fly, right?" Tom asked. "You said they rode brooms just like in the stories."

"We don't have a broom," Harry said. "I used to have one, I think."

"It would be really convenient to have one now," Tom said. "Maybe we can climb up?"

Harry looked down at Tom's innocent face. "Are you mad?"

"No," Tom responded, snickering. "I'm just trying to think like you. You always come up with crazy ideas."

"No I don't!" Harry muttered, poking Tom in the ribs and instantly feeling guilty when Tom cringed away. "Sorry," Harry muttered.

"Do you remember that one time that you thought climbing a tree would get you close enough to touch a cloud? Or the time that you decided that stealing Martha's books was a good idea?"

"Don't remind me of that!" Harry moaned, pouting. "That was gross."

"Despicable."

"Scary."

"Horrifying."

"Icky-er than Mrs. Cole."

"I can't beat that one," Tom said, sighing dramatically. "But really, do you think we can?"

"I don't know," Harry said, closing his eyes. "I don't know anything about the walls underneath our room."

"It's too dangerous to check," Tom said. "Billy and his gang might be around."

"We have to go back sometime?" Harry offered. "Let's try it."

"I regret telling you my idea," Tom said, heaving himself off of Harry's legs and awkwardly manoeuvring to the end of the metal tube. Harry picked himself off of the cool metal wall, sighing slightly at the loss, and followed him. He lifted his head too early, though, and ended up smacking it on the edge of the metal tube.

"And here I was hoping your head would be undamaged today," Tom said sourly, hoisting Harry up. "Let's go before someone sees us."

Tom pulled Harry across the courtyard at a frantic pace, slowing slightly when Harry felt the cooler air in the shade of the orphanage brush his skin. Tom walked forward a little, placing Harry's hand on the worn brick wall and stepping back.

Harry felt the brick under his hands. It was rough and scratchy, cracked in several places within Harry's immediate reach. The space between each brick was slightly indented, but not enough for one of them to jam the toes of their shoes into.

"Is there anything else here?" Harry asked, moving to the right.

"There's a window to your right. And a little higher along the wall the bricks are broken."

"Oh?" Harry asked. "Let me see."

Harry resolutely ignored Tom's snort at his statement. "Very funny, Tom."

Harry heard him mutter, "It was!," but ignored it. Tom was right about the window. Small, a few feet off the ground. A little bit higher, right next to it, was a chunk gouged out of the wall. It gave Harry a little bit of an idea.

"Hey, Tom?" Harry asked, turning away from the wall. "What room is that window in?"

Tom walked closer, cautiously peering in. "It looks like that old storage room that Billy once locked us in."

"Oh," Harry said, shuddering. "I have an idea."

"Do you?" Tom said. "Please tell me it's not ridiculous."

"It's not ridiculous," Harry said, smirking.

"Stop that," Tom said, glaring. "What is it?"

"I think that we _can_ climb the wall...after we break a few more holes into it."

Tom was silent for a few moments before sputtering, "How do you propose we do that without being seen?"

It took Harry a lot of convincing back in the metal tube, some intense magical exercise by Tom, and a whole litany of swears thrown in Harry's direction that he didn't even know Tom knew, but Tom eventually agreed to make the attempt.

"You know it'll be worth it!" Harry said cheerily. "Just think about how easy it will be to sneak out!"

"That won't help me if I die climbing up on that wall," Tom said, sounding nervous. However, he clambered out of the metal tube and walked toward the wall.

"Wait!" Harry called, tripping as he scampered out after him. "Shouldn't we wait until dark?"

"Oh," Tom said, looking sheepish. "I didn't think of that."

"I wonder why," Harry mused, grabbing onto Tom's arm and pulling him back into the metal tube. "I mean, I'm the one who constantly sees darkness. Why am I more aware of the dangers of being seen than you are? You're slipping, Tom."

"I am not," Tom said, sniffing. "I was just off-balance because I agreed to your silly idea."

"Sure," Harry conceded with a smirk, settling back against the metal, pressing his bruised back into it with a small sigh. "Hey, Tom," Harry said slowly, fighting the urge to yawn, "wake me when it's time, okay? I want to sleep."

"Only babies sleep during the day," Tom muttered. "But fine."

With that assurance, Harry let the magic in his sight fade away into the darkness of his dreams.

* * *

><p>Tom shook violently, eyes wide and staring unseeing at the shadowed brick before him. How, again, had Harry convinced him to do this? Now, he was stuck. On a brick wall. Very high. In the middle of the night, barely able to see anything.<p>

Tom mentally cursed stupid Billy and his gang because if not for them, he wouldn't be in this ridiculously terrifying situation.

"I can't do this," Tom whispered violently, glaring at the wall, knuckles white as he held onto the wall like a limpet. Below him, he could hear Harry call up encouragements.

"Come on, Tom!" Harry cheered in a voice not much above a whisper. "You can do it. We have magic, remember? Remember that time I told you about when I jumped out of the window and floated down?"

"What if that doesn't happen?" Tom shot back, voice high and strained.

"I'll catch you," Harry said. "I bet I can."

"Of course you do," Tom muttered.

"You're not even that high on the wall, you know," Harry mused. "You're actually only like six feet up."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Tom asked. "I can't even begin to imagine climbing up the rest of the way."

Tom carefully let go of one of the handholds and flexed his fingers, hissing in pain as the stiffened muscles loosened. With barely a second's delay, he latched onto the wall again, breathing deeply. He had to focus so that he could finally finish with this. It was too late for them to sneak in through the doors; they would no doubt be caught. He didn't trust his magic yet with locks, so that option was out.

He stared at the brick, grey in the starlight, biting his lip. He reached for a feeling deep inside him; that feeling that felt like lapping waves of power in an ocean located deep in his chest. When he thought that he had grabbed a hold of it, he directed it to the brick in front of him, focusing singlemindedly on the wish for the brick to be pulled out. He _needed _that handhold to be formed. And he was going to make it happen. The magic was his; it would listen to him when he called.

When Tom was sure that he had a good grasp on it, he gave it a strong mental shove, feeling it streaming out of his skin in a rather unfocused way. He was used to using his hands to channel his power, but in this case, they were currently occupied preventing accidental death. It felt odd as the magic flowed out of the skin on his face. The taste of the sea grew on his tongue until he could almost smell the sea breeze and seaweed and salt as if it was right in front of him.

Thankfully, his magic obeyed, slowly pushing out the brick located in front of his nose. "Watch out!" Tom called, lifting his body slightly off the wall with shaking arms, letting the brick fall between the small gap he made, falling toward the ground. He heard a muffled curse from below, meaning that Harry had barely made it out of the way.

"Are you stupid?" Tom muttered sourly. "I gave you a few seconds warning."

"I accidentally went forward instead of back," Harry said, sounding sheepish.

"Of course you did," Tom said, sighing.

"I like watching you do magic!" Harry said. "It was totally an accident."

"Whatever you say," Tom said noncommittally, carefully grabbing onto the newly-made handhold. Closing his eyes, Tom lifted himself a little higher, shifting one of his legs a little higher up on the wall, taking advantage of a preexisting dent in the wall.

It went slowly, Tom carefully making several handholds with varying levels of success before moving higher. He wasn't going to let something as silly as being afraid of falling stop him. Of course, some of the handholds would have been better if he wasn't so nervous, but Tom thought that they lent some credibility. There had been one moment when Tom had wished for the wall to stop existing, which ended up removing a thin layer off of almost twenty bricks. Another moment, he had used too much magic and blasted several bricks half out of the wall.

It wouldn't do for the bricks to be messed up too cleanly.

Finally, in the end, Tom reached their window, clambering onto the windowsill, leaning half of his body against it. He was panting for breath, arms trembling weakly. He grimaced with distaste at the feeling of liberal amounts of sweat on him. It was too late to rectify that. He could probably wash himself somehow in the sink.

After lying for a short while, catching his breath, he clambered fully inside their room, turning back to the window. "Are you ready to try?" Tom whisper-shouted down the wall.

"Yeah," Harry said, voice so faint that Tom almost imagined that he heard it. "Tell me where to put my hands, okay?"

"Okay," Tom said, leaning out further. "Move your left arm - no, the other one; my left - up a little...more left...up a little more. There."

"Got it," Harry said, clambering up the wall rather quickly. Tom watched as Harry took a few seconds at a time to run his hand along the wall, looking for more handholds.

"More right and a little higher," Tom said, watching as Harry found the next handhold very quickly. Tom was a little envious that Harry seemed to be showing no fear. Tom decided to question him.

"Harry?" Tom asked quietly. "How are you not scared?"

"Hm," Harry hummed, moving up another handhold. "I am scared."

"You don't seem like it," Tom said, wringing his hands a little before shaking his head a little.

"Well, I am," Harry said, already halfway up. "But my magic saved me from something like this before. Hopefully it'll work even better now that we can sort of use our magic already."

"True," Tom said, heart leaping into his chest as Harry lost a foothold. Harry grunted a little bit, sagging against the wall. Tom watched with wide eyes as Harry shuffled around a little bit before resuming his climb. He wasn't sure how Harry could simply _do _that.

"You okay?" Tom asked, peering closer at Harry's face. It looked...excited, of all things. Harry was _enjoying_ this. Of course he would.

"Tom," Harry asked, breaking Tom out of his thoughts. "Tell me what the sky looks like."

Tom looked at Harry suspiciously. Was Harry trying to distract _him?_ Well, he would humor Harry in that case. Tom looked up at the sky, briefly admiring the strange not-brown, not-purple color of the sky.

"It's a strange color," Tom began. "I think that all the light from the city is messing with the sky because you can hardly see any stars. It's almost brown... but it's also a little purple and grey and blue too. It's hard to tell... There are really small clouds just scattered all over. It looks...it looks as if someone took an enormous hammer and cracked the sky into lots of tiny grey pieces."

"That's an interesting image," Harry said, causing Tom to jump a little. Harry's face was right below the windowsill, looking smug. "You were worried, weren't you?" Harry said, smiling fondly.

"No I wasn't," Tom insisted, offering an arm to Harry. "Come on, get in. It would be so...so..._pathetic_ of you to fall just when you're almost here."

Harry smirked but grabbed onto Tom's offered arm, almost wrenching it as he used it to heave himself over the ledge. Harry shuffled around a little, picking himself up and twisting until he was sitting on the ledge.

"Harry!" Tom said, glaring at him. "Get off before you _fall _off!"

"Okay," Harry said cheerily, jumping forward onto Tom and hugging him very tightly. "Thank you so much Tom! Now we have a secret path!"

Tom huffed, hugging back. He instantly noticed something odd; there was something hard poking into his stomach. He let go of Harry quickly, grabbing onto his shoulders and pushing him away. Harry's stomach looked remarkably square.

"What is that?" Tom said, exasperated.

"What's what?" Harry said, grinning.

"On your stomach," Tom said, poking the definitely hard substance there.

"Bricks," Harry said, as if that was all the explanation needed.

Tom stared at Harry as if he was insane. "Why?"

"You never know when you might need bricks," Harry said, shrugging.

* * *

><p><strong>October 15, 1933<strong>

Harry and Tom were in the middle of their daily magical exercises when they heard an odd, ringing sound. At first, Tom ignored it, convincing Harry that it was probably someone messing around with metal in the attic. However, a few minutes later, someone tried to enter the storage room that they were practicing in.

Tom immediately let go of his magic, irritated that he had to lose grip on it when he had finally got it to cooperate with him reasonably. It took him over an hour to gather it properly to use without straining so hard he felt like he would pop a blood vessel. What a waste. Harry tensed and froze, and Tom detected a hint of wariness in the icy feeling of Harry's magic.

"Why is this door locked?" they could hear Martha mutter, fiddling with the doorknob. "Is anyone in there?"

Tom contemplated staying silent, but a painful jab to his ribs from Harry convinced him that he was going to be revealed either way. He bit back a sigh, walking to the door and releasing the lock on it. He opened it slowly, smiling in a way he hoped looked shy as he looked up into Martha's unremarkable brown eyes.

Martha's mouth tightened some. Who was he kidding; everyone was still suspicious of him anyway, even though he had assuaged some of their fears by not killing Harry within the first day.

"What were ya doing here?" Martha asked suspiciously. "No matter. There's someone here today that's looking to adopt. You're dressed fine; go to the main room."

"Do we have to?" Tom asked, scrunching his nose in disdain.

"Of course!" Martha said. "You're the last ones I had to find. Hurry up!" With that, Martha turned around and strode away in the direction of the main room, hands nervously patting down her plain beige dress. Tom contemplated locking themselves in again, but before he could make any kind of move, he was suddenly being squeezed to death.

"Harry?" Tom choked out, trying to wriggle free from what had to be the tightest and most dangerous hug of his life. Not that he'd been hugged that much by anyone except Harry. Not that he could recall.

Harry stayed suspiciously silent. Tom tried turning around in Harry's death grip, eyes widening when he noticed how Harry was shivering slightly and seemed to be breathing rapidly. What was going on? Harry never acted like this. In fact, it seemed as if Harry was scared of something. Or he was upset. But why? Martha didn't say anything that seemed like it could make Harry react like this. She only mentioned adoption...was that it?

"Harry?" Tom repeated, hesitantly placing his arms around Harry as well. That seemed to be the right response, as Harry relaxed slightly, although his grip did not weaken.

"I don't want to be adopted."

"Oh?" Tom asked. "Most people do."

"Do you?" Harry mumbled from somewhere in Tom's shirt.

"Not particularly, no," Tom said. "Are you...okay?"

Harry moved his head in some vague way that Tom took to mean 'no,' though it was rather hard to tell.

"We'll be fine," Tom said, mind spinning in all kinds of directions to try to figure out what to do. He was sure that Martha would be rather displeased if they wouldn't show up. "I won't let anyone take you away from me."

Harry was silent for a few more moments before relaxing his hold on Tom. Tom almost began deeply inhaling sweet, sweet magic-scented air again with exaggerated breaths before he realized that it might be rude. "I promise," Tom said, grabbing onto Harry's shoulders. "If they really want to take either of us, we'll scare them both off. For each other."

"Alright," Harry said quietly, letting go and backing away. Tom noticed a glimpse of Harry's face, suspiciously red, but he didn't comment on it. Together, they both left the storage room and walked toward the main room of certain doom.

As Tom entered the main room, he noticed everyone was lined up according to age and height. He sneered a little at that system; it made the other orphans look like dolls to be chosen from, picked for the correct height and features. Just to spite Mrs. Cole, who was standing imperiously in one corner and giving Tom the evil eye, Tom led Harry over to one of the gaps left for them and shoved the others slightly out of the way so that both of them could stand together. Of course, since Harry was significantly shorter than Tom, it made for an interesting little break in the pattern.

The couple were watching them with amused eyes, something that made Tom seeth internally. They were the threat here. Although he himself knew that he didn't particularly want to be adopted, the fact that Harry seemed to dislike the idea so much made him decided that he was going to do the best he could to make sure that they were never considered. As if he would let anyone take Harry away!

"Children, these are the Turners!" Mrs. Cole said brightly, the effect slightly dimmed from the rasp in her voice that she had recently developed following a bad cold. Tom felt a little proud, as he was the one who had made a point of trying to transfer Billy's perpetually snotty handkerchiefs to places where Mrs. Cole would most likely touch. Seeing how Billy was constantly miserable from his sudden bouts of coughing, Tom had tried to do the same to Mrs. Cole.

Tom knew he wasn't very nice, but to be fair, Mrs. Cole wasn't all that nice either.

"They're here to adopt someone!" Mrs. Cole continued. "Say 'hello Mr. and Ms. Turner', everyone!"

"Hello Mr. and Ms. Turner," most of the orphans dutifully recited. Only most of them, though. Tom wouldn't participate in that nonsense.

"Hello!" Ms. Turner said. "I'm very glad to meet you all today." She walked up to the end of the line with the youngest children, the toddlers. She talked to each one for about thirty seconds before moving on. After she talked to a few children, her husband went around and began doing the same thing. It looked remarkably like an assembly line of some sort. It gave such a strong impression of window shopping that Tom felt horribly disgusted by the action and the taste of an ocean storm blossomed on his tongue.

Tom was bored with this farce. Ms. Turner was asking such inane questions. "Suzie, do you like flowers? My, you're a handsome one. Jacob, you said?"

It was as if she expected to find the child she wished to adopt by finding out if they had the same favorite color. "You like green? So do I!" Tom thought moodily. Although there was nothing wrong with green; that was the color of Harry's almost-glowing eyes.

Ms. Turner stopped in front of Tom, eyes lighting up. Once again, another fly had fallen into the web. Tom knew that he was very good-looking; old women cooed on the streets, other orphans looked at him with jealousy, and if he smiled, Tom knew he could almost always get what he wanted. So, Tom gave her a smile, hoping that it didn't look quite as fake as it felt. Although the chances of that were rather small; Tom had practiced his expressions in the mirror to perfection.

"Oh, hello there, handsome!" Ms. Turner said genially, smiling widely. "What's your name?"

"Tom."

"Hello Tom. I'm Ms. Turner."

Tom had to fight down the urge to laugh. It was as if she had forgotten that she and her husband had already been introduced to everyone there. "Hello, Ms. Turner," Tom said politely.

"What do you like to do in your spare time?" Ms. Turner asked, bending her knees slightly and leaning until she was more at his eye level. Tom's lips twitched slightly in irritation as the scent of her perfume grew stronger.

"I like to cut open small animals to look at their insides," Tom stated solemnly, allowing a little smirk to slip through. He heard a few sharp intakes of breath from around him, knowing that this 'confession' would be basically confirming all of the other rumors about him. Tom wasn't that worried though; everyone already knew that he was different and avoided him on principle except for that silly Alyssa and the fists of Billy's gang. Mrs. Cole seemed to think that he was a demonic spirit of some sort.

"Oh, that's very funny!" Ms. Turner said, but Tom wasn't fooled. She had straightened up a little bit and had taken a few steps back. "I'm afraid I have to go and talk to the others now!" With that, Ms. Turner turned to Harry.

* * *

><p>Harry was shaking slightly. Tom's presence next to him was calming, but it wasn't enough. Being lined up in a manner like he was something on display was an unnerving prospect.<p>

He wasn't going to be adopted today, if he had anything to say about it. He was not going to let some random people stride in, announce themselves his new family, and take him away from Tom. That would be like forgetting his real parents, his dead parents. Replacing him with people who were picking children out of a lineup.

Tom's magic was playing wildly, looking rather menacing. However, it was relatively well controlled, so Harry didn't fear it lashing out. He decided to focus on keeping his calm. Currently, it was densely layered around him, almost like a barely tangible, familiar hug.

He wasn't going to be taken away. Neither would Tom. Tom wouldn't let anything happen. If Harry knew one thing for sure, it was that Tom didn't share.

Harry stepped a little closer to Tom's side. He was right next to Paul, who had an unfortunate problem with body odor. Tom smelled much better. Tom was also safer.

He wasn't going to be taken away.

Suddenly, Harry's hearing sharpened as he heard Ms. Turner stand right in front of Tom. As Tom responded politely, Harry almost wanted to scream, "What are you doing? Don't be polite!" but refrained, instead sticking his right hand deeply into his pocket and proceeding to pull out the threads with only his fingers. A twirl of his finger, a jab with another, and a loop of thread was pulled partially out of the thick fabric of his trousers. Harry twirled it, moving his fingers almost absently in a circular motion. To his dismay, it knotted.

Then, Tom told everyone that he likes cutting open dead animals and Harry knew that everything would be fine.

But that meant that he was next in line.

Ms. Turner took a few steps away from Tom toward Harry, the sound of heels clicking against the floor very loud in the awkward silence. Harry absently reminded himself to congratulate Tom on such a dramatic performance.

Ms. Turner leaned closer and said, voice positively saccharine, "Oh, your eyes are lovely!"

Harry gazed somewhere in her direction, keeping his face intentionally stoic. "Well, they'd be more lovely if I could actually see out of them," Harry said, crossing his fingers in his pocket because he _could_ see, just not in the way most people would understand.

Ms. Turner was silent for a few moments before sighing breathily and moving on. Harry let out a breath that he wasn't even aware that he was holding, smiling lightly. He and Tom were free. They stood together, so close that their hands were touching, basking in relief because they wouldn't lose each other. Harry had to fight the urge to grin obnoxiously, managing to reduce it to an upward quirk of his lips. When Harry glanced up at Tom, he found that Tom had almost the same expression.

Their eyes met, both relieved and laughing at an easy solution to what had seemed to be a difficult problem. Harry's magic positively danced with joy, and, on a whim, he made it attach itself to Ms. Turner's clickety-clackety shoes.

When Ms. Turner tripped, Harry couldn't hold back a small snort. Tom flicked his hand sharply, but Harry knew that he thought it was funny too.

* * *

><p>Mrs. Cole hadn't been happy with them after that. Apparently, the Turners had left, calling the children unnerving, plainly telling her that they were sure that there were other orphanages around with less mental residents.<p>

"Not as mental as someone who wears sticks instead of shoes," Harry whispered. Harry had thought the description of high heels was really hilarious after Tom had told him about the source of such a clicky noise. He had seen a brief glimpse of them, but he had thought it was a mistake. How could she even balance on them?

Harry decided that women were rather strange and terrifying. Ms. Turner had been walking alright before he had made her trip.

"Shh," Tom whispered under his breath. They were standing in front of Mrs. Cole's desk as she berated them for making the orphanage look bad.

"It _is_ that bad," Harry muttered.

"She heard you, you idiot," Tom hissed under his breath, which made Harry pale a little bit. Mrs. Cole must have ears like a owl's.

"So," Mrs. Cole said, "I have to punish you both for this. You understand? I have to set an example for the others that lying and being rude is not acceptable, especially around parents looking to adopt! Today could have been someone's lucky day! But you ruined that. So," Mrs. Cole said, probably pausing for dramatic effect, "I'm taking away your allowances for the unforeseeable future."

Harry and Tom stood mute for a moment before both bursting into speech.

"No, that's not fair-"

"Mrs. Cole, we need that money-"

"Silence!" Mrs. Cole said sharply. "You just use it on sweets. You could do without those for a while."

Harry felt devastated. He and Tom did use their allowances before resorting to stealing, usually. This was unfair. This was...torture! Worse than Billy's gang. Denying children the candy they rightfully deserve…

"Okay," Tom said curtly. "Come on, Harry," Tom said, pulling on Harry's sleeve. Harry pouted, stomping after Tom. He felt like emphasizing his displeasure to _everyone._ At least he and Tom could steal things.

They both ended up in their room, sitting on the bed and sulking.

"This is inconvenient," Tom finally said. "The allowance was useful. People would get suspicious if we never bought anything for money."

"Yeah, I guess," Harry said. "I guess we have to steal more?"

"You mean candy," Tom said, staring at Harry. Harry blushed a little, looking to the side. "Candy is really important, you know," Harry wheedled, opening his eyes a little wider and staring at Tom innocently.

"That doesn't work on me," Tom said, crushing Harry's hopes. "You know we need to steal winter things soon."

"Do we?" Harry asked, surprised. "Why?"

Tom gave him a look, staring at him in disbelief. "Well," Tom said, "you _may_ have noticed that in the months since winter we've grown."

"Have we?" Harry asked, surprised. "I didn't notice."

"Yeah. You got taller," Tom said, flopping back onto the bed. "Still not as tall as me, though."

"That's because you're a half-giant," Harry sniffed. "Just wait. I'm sure I'll get taller than you someday."

"We'll see," Tom said, smirking. "But we really do need to get a new coat each, at least."

"Coats are really large, though," Harry said. "How are we going to sneak them?"

"We'll have to be really careful," Tom said. "Losing our allowance is very bad in this case. We could have used it."

"I guess we'll have to steal more," Harry said. Funnily enough, that didn't bother Harry very much anymore. He guessed that getting candy out of it for so long was enough of a mind-changer for him.

"Yeah," Tom said. "We have to be really careful, though. We don't know what she would do next."

* * *

><p><strong>October 21, 1933<strong>

"Where do you want to go next?" Tom asked, looking at Harry. He strongly hoped that Harry wouldn't request another candy-stealing expedition. For all Harry's aversion to stealing initially, he was taking to it rather quickly. Apparently, all it took was positive reinforcement to gain Harry's support.

"I don't know," Harry said, letting go of Tom to spin around in a circle, arms thrown out. One of his arms hit a passing gentleman who gave them a stern look as he passed by.

"Oops," Harry said, giggling.

"You're such a child!" Tom moaned, dramatically throwing back his head and flinging his arms into the air. "How will I survive this torture?"

"Stop pretending to be a muggle movie star," Harry said, widening his stance and shifting a look of utter contempt at Tom. "Manners, cleanliness, and good behaviour are essential for success," Harry said in a tone that matched Mrs. Cole's almost exactly. His stance was a little bit off, but Tom could forgive Harry for that.

"You need to look as if I'm below you," Tom said. "Lift your chin as if you're looking at the sky."

Harry followed his instructions, lifting his chin to obscene heights. "Better?"

"Much better, yes," Tom said. "But we still need to figure out where to go. We keep hanging around the same parts of London. How about we go further? Explore?"

"I like the sound of exploring," Harry said slowly, tapping his finger on his chin. "You know what? Let's explore. But only if you tell me everything you see."

"Fine," Tom said, used to Harry's demands. "Let's go, then. It's probably a good idea for you to practice using your cane, though."

"Ugh, don't remind me!" Harry said, frowning. "I don't like it. I have you. Why do I need to learn to move around like a blind muggle? When we finally get old enough for Hogwarts I'm sure the magic of the wards will let me see at least a little."

"It's good practice," Tom said. "Especially if Billy gets to you alone."

Harry scoffed but nevertheless picked up his cane from the floor. "It's silly and I keep getting it stuck on things and it keeps yanking my arm and my arm hurts from using it. But I'll use it. Just because I'm nice."

"Of course," Tom said, walking off, smirking over his shoulder. Harry's eyes widened, mouth opening.

"You're terrible!" Harry insisted, swinging his white cane forward and hurrying after Tom. "If I couldn't see you, that would've left me alone. In the city filled with scary strangers. You're evil."

"But you can see me," Tom said. "So it's fine."

"Whatever. But you still deserve punishment for that," Harry said, flicking his cane to the side, thwacking Tom's ankle. Tom grit his teeth but didn't comment on it. That cane was more like a weapon than any aide for Harry, really.

"Alright," Tom said, hoping to prevent any further attacks. "Let's head north. So far, nothing but stores. Everything looks a little old and dirty here. Everyone is dressed really fancy, though. There's a man across the street that's wearing the funniest hat…"

Tom walked on, Harry shadowing him, idly sticking his cane in front of him and smacking Tom's ankle periodically. Tom kept up an endless stream of observations, focusing on the funnier things that he saw, knowing that they would pique Harry's interest. The stores gradually faded into rather tall buildings that looked like they could be housing flats, the other side of the road fading into a small park. Tom carried on, hoping for a place a little bit more exciting than a residential area. He made sure to mark landmarks as they went, though. Their unsupervised expeditions into London would end if they got hopelessly lost.

The sun was bright, but that didn't take away the chill of the air. Tom's newly acquired coat proved adequate to take the edge off, but his face soon felt chilled. When he looked at Harry, Harry looked as if he didn't mind at all.

"Are you cold?" Tom asked, examining Harry. "Even a little bit?"

"Not really," Harry sighed. "I love this weather. It's just sunny enough to make it feel pleasant."

"Of course you like it," Tom muttered. Figures that someone who smelled of winter and ice would enjoy the cold weather. Personally, Tom wasn't much of a fan of it.

"Oh, the area ahead looks interesting," Tom said, looking ahead curiously. "Looks like restaurants and bars."

"What's inside a bar?" Harry asked curiously. "I heard Robert bragging about sneaking inside one."

"Alcohol," Tom said, frowning.

"Is it that stuff that makes Mrs. Cole really mad about everything?" Harry asked curiously, looking up at Tom.

"Yeah. It makes her mad," Tom thought wryly, thinking of the rather accurate double-meaning in that statement. Tom turned to Harry again to begin narrating their surroundings when he noticed Harry staring, frozen, at one of the restaurants.

"Harry?" Tom asked, slightly worried. Harry never focused on anything like that. How could he, when he couldn't see?

"Tom," Harry whispered faintly, eyes shining with excitement. "There's a _wizard right there._"

"Who?" Tom said, looking at the red-painted exterior of the restaurant. "Which one?" There were three men currently standing in front of the restaurant, two conversing with each other while another was looking at something in his hand.

"He's holding something blue," Harry said. "His magic is this really really light green color. It could almost be grey."

"Really?" Tom asked, intrigued. "Anything else you can see?" Tom felt desperate to know more about this wizard; this one link to the world that they could not reach. Although he wanted to go over and maybe talk to the wizard; force him to do something, Tom shot the idea down. It was better to learn and observe.

"He's taking something that's glowing red out of his pocket...I think it's a wand!" Harry said, dropping his cane in his excitement. Tom stared, looking at the thin black stick that the man had plucked out of his overlarge coat. It looked wholly unremarkable. Suddenly, Harry inhaled loudly.

"Tom...we've been doing everything wrong! He just cast magic and I can see it! It's so...ordered! It's like patterns and it's all woven together and there are strange shapes in it and it's so beautiful…"

Harry's eyes were shining, focused on that distant wizard. Tom's mind raced with possibilities. Magic was ordered? Could they possibly order it like that, without a wand? Tom was aflame with curiosity and a need to test his idea.

"Tom," Harry said, "we need to get home right now and test this. It could change everything."

"I know," Tom said, glancing back to the man. Tom wasn't surprised when the man wasn't there when he looked back.

"If we can make our magic do those patterns," Harry said breathlessly, "it'll probably work easier and I won't have so many issues with it. It looked so much more efficient and used so little magic…"

A shiver of anticipation trickled down Tom's spine, not in the least caused by the wind.

* * *

><p><em>I'm sure some of you more dirty-minded readers got the wrong idea when there was something hard poking into Tom's stomach. For shame, really. ;D <em>

_This chapter is turning out terribly long. Planning out my chapters is extending them to ridiculous lengths. Long chapters take a little longer to write, though. _

_History notes for this chapter include canes: in the late 1920s and early 1930s people began painting canes white to make them more easily visible. The modern "Hoover" method of usage was developed in 1944, before this time. Therefore, Harry is only using it in the way that comes most naturally to him...which is swinging it every which way without abandon, taking special consideration of Tom's ankles._

_Changed the summary. What do you think?_


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